(yi  a 


•^■^  Trend  AND  DRIFT 


iiiiiimiiiii'  V       _    , 


tihvaxy  of  Che  Cheolojical  ^eminarjp 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 


PRESENTED  BY 

The  Estate  of  the 
Rev.  John  B.  Wieding^er 

BV  4501  .V24  1910 

Vance,  James  I.  1862-1939 

Tendency 


TENDENCY 


By  James  I.  Vance,  D.  D. 

Tendency:  The  Effect  of  Trend  and 
Drift  in  the  Development  of  Life. 
Net  ^1.25. 

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TENDENCY 

The  Effect  of  Trend  and  Drift 
In  the  Development  of  Life 


JAMES  l/VANCE,  D.  D. 


"  Opens  wider  still  the  portal 
To  the  land  of  the  immortal, 

Every  year  : 
And  thinner  grows  the  curtain 
That  divides  us  from  the  certain 

Every  year."  — Anon. 


New  York  Chicago  Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

London  and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,  1910,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  80  Wabash  Avenue 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:      100    Princes    Street 


This  book  is  dedicated  to  the  people 
who  think  more  of  Life  thaii  of  the 
kind  of  clothes  it  wears,  who  feel  in 
the  pulses  of  the  Transitory  the  tides 
of  the  Permanent,  and  who  find  in  the 
common  task  and  daily  round  their 
points  of  contact  with  the  Infinite. 


Foreword 

Man  is  more  like  God  than  anything  else  in  the 
world.     The  making  of  the  future  world  is  man's  i 
business,  but  man  himself  is,  as  yet,  in  the  mak- 
ing ;  and  the  kind  of  world  he  is  to  make  will  | 
depend  upon  the  kind  of  man  he  becomes. 

The  value  of  any  particular  civilization  or  the 
eminence  of  any  age  of  the  world  depends  upon 
where  it  finds  man  in  the  progress  of  his  develop- 
ment. No  civilization  can  be  great  whose  men 
are  inferior,  and  no  age  can  be  illustrious  whose  ; 
manhood  is  tame. 

In  a  magazine  article,  Mr.  Thomas  A.  Edison 
is  reported  as  saying:  '*We  are  only  animals. 
We  are  coming  out  of  the  dog  stage  and  getting  a 
glimpse  of  our  environment.  We  don't  know, 
we  just  suspect  a  few  things.  It  will  take  an 
enormous  evolution  of  our  brains  to  bring  us 
anywhere."  ^ 

There  may  be  some  truth  in  this  statement.  If 
so,  it  is  the  truth  that  was  said  long  ago,  and  in 
a  far  nobler  way,  by  him  who  wrote  :  **  It  is  not 
yet  made  manifest  what  we  shall  be."  ^ 

It  is  the  man  that  makes  the  age.  It  is  the 
people  that  create  the  civilization.  If  the  man 
be  a  mere  animal,  whose  chief  functions  are  bark 

•  The  Independent,  January  6,  1910.  » 1  John  iii.  2. 

7 


8  FOEEWOED 

and  bite,  it  will  be  the  dog  age  ;  but  if  the  man 
has  climbed  out  of  the  brute  and  lost  his  fear  of 
force,  and  discovered  the  majesty  of  ideas  and 
the  glory  of  love  and  the  divinity  of  gentleness, 
the  dog  star  is  in  eclipse ;  the  dawn  of  the  human, 
— shall  we  say  the  divine  1 — is  at  hand. 

Therefore,  where  is  man  ?  What  is  going  on  in 
him  ?  Whither  do  the  tides  of  his  being  turn  I 
What  are  his  impulses  and  faiths,  his  struggles 
and  ideals?  What  is  man  becoming?  Is  the 
music  of  his  life  still  half  bark,  half  song  ? 

What  follows  in  this  little  volume  is  an  effort 
to  feel  along  the  lines  of  the  development  by  which 
man  makes  his  way  upward  and  onward.  The 
chapters  deal  with  some  of  the  forces  which  are 
at  work  in  determining  the  tendency  and  de- 
ciding the  destiny  of  a  human  life. 

One  may  sign  his  theological  system  with  what 
name  he  likes  best,  he  may  prefer  the  old  and 
call  himself  Calvinist  or  Arminian,  he  may  pre- 
fer the  modern  and  elect  Determinism  or  Libera- 
tionism, or  he  may  prefer  not  to  be  classified  ; 
but  if  he  study  life  at  all,  he  must  take  into 
account  the  fact  that  it  is  constantly  undergoing 
some  kind  of  development. 

This  development  may  be  up  or  down,  it  may 
be  trend  or  drift ;  but  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
stagnation.  No  man  ever  stays  where  and  what 
he  was.  Nothing  leaves  us  as  it  found  us,  and 
we  leave  nothing  as  we  found  it. 

The  problem  of  life  is,  first  to  get  it  and  then 
to  live  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  coming  con- 


FOEEWORD  9 

stantly  into  a  fuller  fellowship  with  Him  who  is  M 
its  source. 

If  a  man  will  do  this,  there  is  no  reason  why 
he  should  not  become  as  divine  as  God  ;  not  that 
he  will  ever  be  God's  equal,  but  that  the  divine 
nature  of  which  we  are  partakers  will  come  to 
be  in  full  and  harmonious  control. 

While  we  are,  even  now,  more  like  God  than 
anything  else  in  the  world,  "it  is  not  yet  made 
manifest  what  we  shall  be.  We  know  that,  if 
He  shall  be  manifested,  we  shall  be  like  Him  ; 
for  we  shall  see  Him  even  as  He  is."  ^ 

^  1  John  iii.  2. 


CONTENTS 


I. 

Whither  1 

13 

II. 

Down  From  thf,  Heights  . 

30 

III. 

The  S1REN8         .... 

44 

IV. 

Divine  Compassion    . 

64 

V. 

A  Great  Love    .... 

67 

VI. 

God's  Once  More 

81 

VII. 

The  Comforter 

95 

VIII. 

The  Making  of  a  Soul 

111 

IX. 

The  Open  Door  and  the  Ad- 

versaries      .... 

120 

X. 

Seeing  the  Invisible 

130 

XI. 

The  Success  of  Failure 

138 

xn. 

A  Face  Towards  the  Morning  . 

146 

XTTT. 

Sanctified  for  the  Street 

160 

XiV. 

The  Value  of  an  Eddy  in  the 

Stream  of  Life 

171 

XV. 

The  Wings  of  a  Dove 

185 

XVI. 

The  Altar  and  the  Choir 

196 

XVII. 

The  Heights  of  Life 

208 

XVIII. 

The   Crown   of  Life  on  the 

Brow  of  Death     . 

223 

XTX. 

Destination  and  Departure  . 

234 

u 


Tendency 


WHITHER  ? 

"Many  a  saint  in  the  making  seems  to  be  marred  by 
faults  and  conflicts  from  which  the  smug,  careful,  reputable 
sensualist  is  exempt.  The  di£Eereuce  between  the  two  is 
not  one  of  position.  It  is  one  of  direction.  The  one,  how- 
ever high  he  stands,  is  moving  down.  The  other,  however 
low  he  starts,  is  moving  up." — Henry  Van  Dyke. 

THE  difference  between  people  and  things  • 
is  that  things  stay  where  they  are  and  \ 
people  move.  Anything  that  stays 
where  it  is,  whether  it  be  an  idea,  a  government,  -, 
or  a  system  of  divinity,  stagnates  and  dwindles  'j 
down  into  nothing  but  a  thing. 

The  difference  between  people  and  things  is 
that  things  stay  what  they  are  and  people  change.  \ 
It  is  in  the  condition  of  change  that  is  embedded 
the  chance  to  grow.     People  grow  because  they 
move  on.     Anything  that  stays  where  it  is  must  \ 
stop  at  what  it  is.     It  is  a  finished  product. 

The  difference  between  people  and  all  other  . 
living  creatures  is  in  the  direction  they  are  going,  ,'; 
because  the  direction  they  are  going  determines  I ' 
the  way  they  are  growing  and  what  they  are' 
becoming. 

13 


14  TENDENCY 

It  is  a  matter  of  tendency.  It  is  not  a  matter 
of  heredity  or  environment  or  any  or  everything 
else  so  much  as  it  is  the  matter  of  tendency  that 
determines  the  dignity  of  life.  And  this  fact  is 
true,  whether  the  realm  be  human  or  divine. 

God  is  not  so  much  a  finished  product  as  a 
being  whose  personality  is  packed  with  divine 
tendency.     On  one  occasion,  Jesus  said  to  His 
disciples  :  ''Whither  I  go  ye  know,  and  the  way 
ye  know."     He  was  speaking  of  the  tendency  of 
.His  life.     He  was  going  somewhere.     He  lived 
'with    His    face  towards  destiny.     He  was  not 
f  wandering  aimlessly  down  the  aisles  of  time.     He 
I  was  not  strolling  purposeless  across  the  field  of 
j  human    history.     Somewhere  on   the  far-away, 
eternal  horizon  was  a  goal  and  He  was  moving 
towards  that  goal.     Nothing  could  halt  or  retard 
or  divert  or  intimidate  or  discourage  or  keep 
Him  back  from  His  destination.     His  life  pos- 
sessed the  element  of  tendency  and  the  tendency 
of  His  life  determined  His  career. 

This  tendency  was  the  matter  of  chief  concern 
and  importance.  It  was  not  what  He  had,  nor 
even  what  or  where  He  then  was,  but  where  He 
was  going. 

It  was  not  what  He  had  as  He  stood  homeless 
among  the  sons  of  men  and  said:  "The  foxes 
have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests, 
but  the  Son  of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  His 
head."  It  was  not  what  He  had  as  He  faced  the 
hungry  multitude,  beside  Galilee,  with  the  loaves 
and  fishes  of  a  lad's  lunch  in  His  hand.     It  was 


WHITHER  ?  15 

not  what  He  had  as  He  stood  at  daybreak  on  the 
seashore  and  called  to  His  weary  disciples  with 
their  empty  nets  after  the  night  of  fruitless  toil : 
"Children,  have  ye  any  meat?"  It  was  not 
what  He  had  that  night  of  His  betrayal  and 
arrest  when  all  His  disciples  forsook  Him  and  . 
fled.  It  was  never  what  He  had.  It  was  always 
where  He  was  going. 

It  was  not  where  He  was  but  where  He  was  | 
going.     It  was  not  where  He  was  as  He  went 
from  city  to  city  with  His  disciples,  worn  with 
the  long  journeys,  now  sittiug  down  beside  Jacob's 
well  to  rest  Himself,  again  withdrawing  into  the  , 
solitude  of  some  desert  place,  that  He  might  re-  ( , 
fresh  His  soul  by  communion  with  His  Father. ' 
It  was  not  where  He  was  that  night  of  the  agony 
in  Gethsemane.     It  was  not  where  He  was  as  He 
stood  in  Pilate's  judgment-hall,  spit  upon  and 
insulted  by  the  lookers-on.     It  was  not  where  He 
was  as  He  hung  dying  on  the  cross,  as  they 
wrapped  His  body  in  death-bauds  and  laid  it  in 
Joseph's  tomb.     It  was  never  where  He  was.     It  ^ 
was  always  where  He  was  going. 

It  was  not  where  He  had  been  but  where  He 
was  going.  He  came  out  of  eternity  for  He  was 
"The  Lamb  slain  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world  "  ;  but  Christ's  glory  was  not  behind  Him  ; 
it  was  before  Him.     It  was  where  He  was  going. 

He  seems  to  say  to  His  disciples  :  "  You  know 
where  I  am  going.  There  may  be  some  mystery 
as  to  whence  I  came,  but  you  know  whither  My 
life  tends.     Whither  I  go  ye  know,  and  the  way 


16  TENDENCY 

ye  know."  They  could  pierce  the  mist  of  cir- 
cumstance and  tear  through  the  veil  of  appear- 
ance. The  thoughtless  and  heedless  crowds  saw 
only  the  suiface,  and  said  :  ''  Jesus  is  a  peasant, 
the  son  of  a  carpenter,  friendless,  unimportant, 
without  a  future."  But  the  disciples  had  faith 
and  spiritual  discernment  to  see  through  into  the 
soul  of  Christ's  ministry  and  discover  its  tend- 
ency. 

There  was,  however,  one  disciple  who  failed  to 
see  it.  He  was  the  disciple  who  is  notorious  for 
his  doubts.  "Thomas  saith  unto  Him:  Lord, 
we  know  not  whither  Thou  goest,  and  how  can 
we  know  the  way  ?  " 

Thomas  was  a  shallow  materialist.  He  lived 
on  the  surface  of  things  and  not  in  their  funda- 
mental and  elemental  realities.  He  estimated 
life  by  appearances. 

Christ  rebuked  him  and  set  him  right.  He 
said  :  "  I  am  the  way  ;  "  that  is,  "  Not  My  sta- 
tion, not  what  I  have,  not  what  I  do  or  say  but 

I  what  I  am,  My  spirit.  My  character,  is  the  way. 

'  I  am  going  whither  what  I  am  will  take  Me." 
"  He  that  hath  seen  Me,  hath  seen  the  Father," 
that  is,  "  He  that  hath  seen  what  I  am  or  he  that 

|.hath  seen  whither  I  am  going,  hath  seen  the 

."iFather.     The  Father  is  My  destination." 

No  one  who  knows  much  of  Christ  has  any 
doubt  as  to  where  He  has  gone,  or  rather  as  to 
where  He  is  still  going.  There  is  but  one  destiny 
for  a  life  with  His  tendency.  The  whither  of 
such  a  life  is  unbroken  and  eternal  fellowship 


WHITHER  ?  17 

with  God.  We  are  not  surprised  to  read  that 
He  burst  the  bands  of  death  and  came  forth  vic- 
torious from  the  tomb.  Death  could  not  fetter  a 
life  within  which  beat  the  tendency  of  Christ. 
We  are  not  surprised  to  read  that  He  rose  from 
the  slopes  of  Olivet  into  the  heavens  before  the 
bewildered  and  astonished  eyes  of  His  disciples. 
Earth  has  no  power  to  hold  down  a  life  with  such 
a  tendency.  We  are  not  amazed  to  read  that  He 
is  seated  at  the  right  hand  of  the  majesty  on 
high,  for  that  is  the  fittest  place  for  a  life  with 
Christ's  tendency.  And  we  shall  not  be  sur- 
prised to  see  Him  coming  again,  in  the  clouds  of 
glory,  for  He  has  said  He  would  come  and  there 
is  no  power  that  can  block  His  way  or  prevent 
His  going  whither  what  He  is  will  take  Him. 

Such  was  Christ's  sermon  on  tendency.  He 
illustrated  His  sermon  with  Himself.  It  was 
His  way  of  saying  that  even  God  cannot  escape 
the  operations  of  the  law  which  binds  destiny 
and  tendency  together.  If  God  is  bound  by  the 
law,  much  more  is  man. 

The  Element  of  Tendency  in  Every  Life 
There  is  the  element  of  tendency  in  every  life. 
We  are  going  somewhere.     We  live  with  our 
faces  towards  destiny.     We  are  not  wandering 
aimlessly  down  the  aisles  of  time.     We  are  notj 
strolling  purposeless  across  the  fields  of  history,  t 
We  may  wish  we  could  stroll  but  it  is  not  permit- 
ted.    Out  there  on  the  horizon  is  a  goal  and  every 
one  is  moving  towards  a  destination.     Man  is  not 


18  TENDENCY 

a  cloud  on  the  sky  to  evaporate  aud  disappear. 
He  is  not  a  mirage  in  the  desert  to  go  out  of  ex- 
istence with  a  change  of  atmospheric  conditions. 
Man  is  a  child  of  desiiny.  He  is  going  some- 
where.    Whither  ? 

He  may  change  the  direction  of  his  life  but  he 
cannot  halt  its  momentum.  Life  is  the  sort  of 
thing  that  refuses  to  stand  still  and  stagnate.  It 
may  be  going  wrong,  but  it  is  going.  It  is  like 
the  onward  flow  of  a  river.  The  lay  of  the  land 
may  change  its  direction,  but  it  cannot  stop  its 
flow.  You  may  build  a  dam  across  the  river's 
course  and  it  will  only  pile  up  against  the  bar- 
rier in  its  way  until  it  breaks  through  or,  with  a 
shout  of  victory,  leaps  over  and  goes  on  its  course. 
You  may  pile  a  mountain  in  the  river's  path  and 
it  will  sweep  around  it  or  grind  through  it,  as  the 
Colorado  Eiver  has  done  in  that  awful  gorge  in 
Arizona,  where  the  Grand  Canyon  yawns  seven 
miles  from  lip  to  lip,  aud  where  one  may  stand 
on  the  dizzy  edge  and  gaze  on  the  river  dashing 
through  its  wild,  weird  channel  a  mile  below. 

The  operation  of  this  law  of  tendency  is  as 
wide-spread  as  existence.  It  makes  itself  felt  in 
the  tiny  insect  life  of  the  world,  and  it  likewise 
manifests  itself  in  the  activities  of  God. 

It  shows  itself  in  plant  life  and  in  the  vegetable 

world.     Here  are  two  seeds  that  look  alike  and 

.weigh  the  same,  but  when  they  burst  the  en- 

I  velope  which  holds  their  life,  they  express  them- 

f  selves  in  forms  which  are  totally  unlike.     Here 

is  a  rough  root  whose  tendency  will  blossom  into 


WHITHEEI  19 

a  rose,  and  there  is  a  smooth  nut  whose  tendency 
will  shape  out  into  a  mighty  tree.  Here  are  two 
protoplasmic  cells  so  nearly  alike  that  the  most 
powerful  microscope  can  detect  no  difference, 
but  one  makes  a  baboon  and  the  other  an  im- 
mortal soul. 

As  we  climb  the  scale  of  being,  the  operation 
of  this  law  becomes,  if  possible,  even  more  pro- 
nounced. It  is  preeminent  in  the  moral  and 
spiritual  realms.  Back  there  in  the  citadel  of 
the  soul  resides  a  mysterious  something  which 
projects  life  in  a  certain  direction ;  and  one 
moves,  day  by  day,  in  all  that  he  says  and  does 
and  is,  in  all  the  windings  and  turnings  and 
changes  of  his  career,  whither  his  tendency  \ 
takes  him. 

Tendency  the  Matter  of  Chief  Concern 
One's  tendency  is  the  matter  of  prime  impor- 
tance and  chief  concern.     It  makes  one  man  a  . 
saint  and  another  a  demon.     It  takes  one  to 
heaven  and  another  to  hell. 

It  is  not  what  a  seed  looks  like  and  weighs, 
but  what  is  the  whither  of  the  seed.     The  tend-i 
ency  will  determine  whether  that  seed  is  to  make^ 
a  weed  or  a  stalk  of  grain,  whether  that  pro- 
toplasmic cell  is  to  terminate  in  animalism  or   j 
intelligence,  whether  a  particular  soul  sensation  ji 
is  to  express  devotion  to  God  or  defiance  of  His  ^ 
will. 

It  is  not  what  we  have,  but  where  we  are  go- 
ing.    We  may  have  but  little.     Our  possessions 


'i 


20  TENDENCY 

may  be  all  obligations,  our  liabilities  in  such 
excess  of  our  assets  as  to  leave  us  hopelessly  in 
debt.  It  is  not  where  we  were,  but  where  we  are 
going.  The  past  may  reproach  us  and  shame  us 
and  condemn  us.  It  is  not  even  where  we  are  on 
the  road  of  life,  but  are  we  on  the  right  road  ? 
It  is  not  how  long  we  have  travelled  the  road, 
but  are  we  going  in  the  right  direction  ?  The 
supreme  question  is  ' '  Whither  ? ' ' 

Out  on  the  open  sea  two  steamships  draw 
near  together.  One  is  an  ocean  greyhound,  and 
the  other  is  a  freighter,  but  their  prows  are 
turned  in  the  same  direction,  and  they  have  both 
signed  for  the  same  port.  The  greyhound  will 
soon  sight  land,  but,  in  due  course  of  time,  the 
slow  boat  will  steam  into  the  selfsame  har- 
bour, for  the  two  ships  are  one  in  their 
tendency. 

Here  are  two  men  in  the  race  of  life.  One  is 
talented,  brilliant,  distinguished,  influential ; 
the  other  is  plain  mediocrity  ;  but  both  men 
are  controlled  by  the  same  convictions  and  their 
lives  are  devoted  to  a  common  service.  They 
will  part  company  somewhat  along  the  road  of 
life,  but  only  as  the  two  ships  parted  on  the 
open  sea,  for  their  tendency  in  life  is  the  same, 
and  they  will  be  together  at  the  goal. 

Instead  of  complaining  of  poor  transportation 
facilities,  instead  of  finding  fault  with  the  road- 
bed and  wondering  just  what  station  he  may 
have  reached  on  the  journey  of  life,  one  would 


WHITHER?  21 

better  make  sure  that  he  is  travelling  in  the^v 
right  direction.     A  blunder  here  is  fatal. 

The  Effect  of  Tendency 

The  efifect  of  tendency  on  every  phase  of  life  is 
fundamental  and  far-reaching. 

Consider  its  effect  on  effort.     The  value  of  an 
effort  depends  not  on  what  is  accomplished,  not 
on  where  it  lands  you,  but  on  the  direction  it  I 
takes  you.     We  want  to  be  better,  our  progress 
is  slow.     We  strive  to  get  up  and  on,  but  there 
is  frequently  little  to  show  for  the  effort  save  the 
struggle  itself.     We  know  that  God  wants  us  to 
rise.     He  tempts  us  to  the  heights.     However 
far  we  may  have  gone.  He  is  saying  that  it  is 
better  further  on.     However  high  we  may  have 
climbed.   He    is  saying  that  there  are  higher   j 
heights  to  ascend,  finer  sights  to  behold,  better   ,j 
fields  to  enter.     But  we  make  such  slow  progress. 
We  climb  and  fall  and  fail.     We  strive  and  fall 
short  and  are  discouraged. 

God  looks  at  the  tendency ;  not  at  what  we 
achieve  but  at  what  we  try  to  achieve  ;  not  at  the 
result  but  at  the  struggle  ;  not  at  where  we  are 
but  at  where  we  are  going. 

There,  at  an  easy,  pleasant  stretch  on  the  road 
of  life  is  a  man  of  decent  habits.  He  has  no 
severe  temptations.  He  is  respectable  and  self- 
complacent.  He  is  a  stranger  to  struggle.  Ex- 
istence is  without  events.  He  is  dallying  with 
opportunity  and  frivolling  life.  There  is  not 
enough  of  the  soldier  in  him,  even  to  don  a  uni- 


V 


22  TENDENCY 

form  and  think  of  battle.  In  the  forces  which 
i  make  a  world,  he  simply  does  not  count ;  he 
is  a  human  cipher  with  no  unit  to  give  it 
value. 

Down  there  in  the  gorge  is  a  soul  in  the  dark, 
battling  with  temptation,  fighting  the  spectres  of 
j  fear,  tearing  off  the  fetters  of  moral  slavery, 
wounded,  sore  bestead  in  the  conflict,  stumbling, 
sometimes  falling,  crying  out  of  the  shadows  for 
help,  bat  ever  keeping  his  face  towards  the  stars, 
seeking  for  the  God  of  his  salvation,  and  swear- 
ing through  every  dread  encounter  :  "Though 
He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  Him!"  That  is 
victory  !  There  is  a  soul  with  a  future  ;  and 
over  such  a  career,  all  heaven  bends  with  sym- 
pathy and  hope. 

Consider  the  effect  of  tendency  on  character. 

Man  is  not  a  finished  product.  He  is  in  proc- 
ess of  becoming.  His  development  is  going  on. 
It  does  not  yet  appear  what  he  shall  be.  Some 
one  has  said  :  "Boys  will  be  boys."  He  was 
an  abler  diagnostician  of  life  who  said  :  ' '  Boys 
\'will  be  men." 

The  way  one  goes  determines  what  one  be- 
comes. This  is  a  commonplace  of  science. 
Man's  physical  being  has  been  shaped  by  his 
tendencies.  Cell  life  has  thrown  itself  out  after 
sustenance,  until  at  last  it  has  made  an  arm. 
The  arm  has  continued  to  reach  for  things  until 
it  has  achieved  a  hand.  Whether  or  not  one 
may  accept  this  as  good  science,  it  is  certainly 
true  that,  in  the  making  of  character,  we  become 


WHITHER  ?  23 

whither  we  are  going.  ' '  Sow  a  thought  and  reap 
an  act,  sow  an  act  and  reap  a  habit,  sow  a  habit 
and  reap  a  character,"  is  one  of  life's  tamest 
commonplaces.  The  story  of  one's  career  is  reg- 
istered in  himself.  Everything  I  have  ever  done, 
every  word  I  have  ever  uttered,  every  thought  I 
have  ever  had,  every  temptation  I  have  ever  en- 
couraged or  resisted,  every  battle  I  have  ever 
fought,  every  defeat  I  have  ever  suffered,  every 
victory  I  have  ever  won  is  recorded  in  me. 
What  I  am  is  the  sum  total  of  all  my  tendencies. 
At  the  judgment  day  it  will  not  be  necessary  for 
the  Recording  Angel  to  open  the  books  to  find 
one's  record.  It  will  be  enough  for  the  man  to 
stand  forth  in  the  white  light  of  that  throne  and 
show  himself.  What  he  is  tells  his  whole  life 
story. 

Consider  the  effect  of  tendency  on  destiny. 

Destiny  is  character  lengthened  out  into  eter- 
nity. "Sow  a  character  and  reap  a  destiny." 
If  tendency  affects  character,  much  more  does  it 
affect  destiny. 

We  can  readily  understand  the  effect  of  tend- 
ency on  destiny,  in  so  far  as  destiny  is  destina- 
tion. If  one  is  to  reach  his  destination,  he  must 
go  towards  it.  A  man  who  is  going  to  the  north 
pole  is  not  going  to  the  equator.  One  cannot 
travel  to  "  the  far  country  "  and  "  home  "  at  the 
same  time.  But  destiny  is  far  more  than  desti- 
nation. 

Jesus  said  to  His  disciples  :  "I  am  the  way." 
For  every  man,  the  same  truth  applies.     What 


k 


24  TENDENCY 

you  are  is  your  way,  your  tendency.     Destiny  is 
where  what  you  are  will  take  you. 


I  sent  my  soul  through  the  invisible, 
Some  question  of  that  after  life  to  spell  ; 

And  by  and  by,  my  soul  returned  to  me, 
And  answered,  '  I  myself  am  Heaven  and  Hell.'  " 


Destiny  is  not  a  trick  of  chance  or  fate.  You 
are  going  whither  what  you  are  will  take  you. 
What  one  is  tending  to  become  now,  he  is  tend- 
ing to  become  forever. 

Tendency  an  Inteepretee 
Since  all  this  is  true,  we  can  more  clearly  un- 
derstand why  there  must  be  a  mighty  difference 
between  faith  and  doubt. 

God  is  ever  calling  for  faith.  He  tells  us  that 
it  is  useless  to  pray  without  faith,  that  He  can  do 
nothing  for  us  unless  we  believe.  Sometimes  we 
are  disposed  to  regard  the  demand  as  unreason- 
able. Why  is  not  doubt  as  good  as  faith,  if  it 
be  honest*?  Indeed,  sometimes  we  are  rather 
proud  of  our  doubts.  We  regard  them  as  the 
signs  of  emancipation.  We  look  upon  doubt  as 
the  hall-mark  of  independent  thought.  Is  not 
doubt  as  good  as  faith,  if  it  be  sincere  ? 

Doubt  and  faith  are  nothing  in  themselves. 
They  are  simply  soul  tendencies,  but  tendencies 
in  diametrically  opposite  directions.  Faith  is 
the  tendency  of  a  soul  towards  God,  and  doubt 


WHITHER  1  25 

is  the  tendency  of  a  soul  away  from  God.     Faith  * 
is  simply  the  light  shining  on  the  face  of  a  soul 
turned  towards  the  sun,  and  doubt  is  the  gloom  / 
on  the  face  of  a  soul  tui-ned  towards  the  night.  ^  i 
It  is  not  a  question  of  sincerity  but  of  direction. 
The  fact  that  a  man  who  is  on  the  wrong  road  is 
sincere  in  thinking  he  is  on  the  right  road  will 
not  bring  him  to  his  destination.     The  sincerity 
of  one  who  swallows  poison,  mistaking  it  for 
medicine,  will  not  prevent  the  fatal  effects  of 
the    drug.     Without   faith  it  is    impossible  to  , 
please  God.     Without  faith   it  is  impossible  to 
reach  Him.     Faith  may  have  its  nights  of  trial,  i 
its  hard,  steep  stretches  of  difficulty,  its  conflicts 
and  crosses,  but  it  is  on  the  right  road,  it  is 
moving  towards  light  and  peace.     Some  day  it  , 
will  emerge  triumphant. 

Tendency  also  makes  it  evident  that  the  earlier 
one  consciously  surrenders  his  will  to  God,  the 
better.     If  he  is  going  the  wrong  way,  the  longer  < 
he  goes  that  way,  the  further  he  will  get  from  . 
where  he  should  go  and  the  harder  it  will  be  to    t 
get  back. 

It  is  vastly  harder  for  one  who  has  lived  fifty 
years,  going  away  from  God,  to  yield  his  will  to 
Him,  than  for  a  child.  The  tendency  of  a  life- 
time must  be  revolutionized.  The  man  must  re- 
trace his  steps  and  come  back  to  where  he  was 
when  he  was  a  child.  Was  not  this  what  Jesus 
meant  when  He  said  :  ''Except  ye  be  converted, 
and  become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."     There  is  nothing 


» 


26  TENDENCY 

more  dangerous  than  to  persist  in  a  wrong  course. 
It  is  a  fallacy  that  sin  leaves  us  where  it  found 
us.     It  is  never  too  soon  to  start  right. 

Tendency  also  would  seem  to  say  that  the  hope 
of  a  chance  after  death  is  an  utterly  forlorn  hope. 
It  does  not  say  that  God  will  ever  decline  to  ex- 
tend the  offers  of  grace.  It  is  saying  that  there 
is  not  the  ghost  of  a  chance  that  one  can  change 
his  attitude  of  rejection  to  the  offers  of  grace, 
whose  tendency  away  from  God  has  hardened 
through  effort  and  character  and  destiny,  out  into 
eternity.  It  is  easy  to  bend  the  sapling  or  twist 
the  twig,  but  wait  until  the  tree  becomes  a  forest 
giant,  and  you  will  not  bend  it.  With  your  hand 
you  can  shape  the  river's  course,  as  it  trickles 
from  the  spring  at  its  source,  but  you  cannot  stay 
its  tide  there  where  it  sweeps  into  the  mighty 
deep.  It  is  not  difficult  for  Christ  to  win  a 
child's  heart,  but  what  shall  be  said  of  a  soul 
that  has  gone  out  into  eternity,  hardened  against 
all  the  love  and  compassion  of  a  merciful  God  ? 
Dives  asked  that  a  messenger  from  the  spirit 
world  be  sent  to  warn  his  brethren,  but  Abraham 
said  :  ''If  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the  prophets, 
neither  will  they  be  persuaded  though  one  rose 
from  the  dead. ' ' 

"Now  is  the  accepted  time.  To-day  is  the  day 
of  salvation."  "To-day,  if  ye  will  hear  His 
voice,  harden  not  your  hearts." 

These  are  the  shibboleths  of  age-old  evangelical 
religion,  but  they  are  likewise  the  household 
words  of  current,  scientific  teaching. 


WHITHER  ?  27 

Tendency  and  Salvation 

The  purpose  of  salvation  is  to  invest  human 
life  with  a  divine  tendency. 

It  is  intended,  of  course,  to  make  one  better, 
to  enable  him  to  be  good,  to  quit  sin,  and  live  a 
correct  life,  but  all  that  is  incidental. 

It  is  intended  to  make  him  useful,  to  lead  him 
to  invest  life  aright,  to  employ  his  powers  in 
God's  service,  but  even  that  is  incidental. 

It  is  intended  to  make  him  happy,  to  empty 
his  heart  of  worry  and  his  mind  of  anxiety,  to 
give  him  joy  and  peace  and  blessed  contentment, 
but  all  that  is  a  mere  incident  of  salvation. 

It  is  intended  to  make  him  safe,  to  assure  him 
of  divine  protection  against  all  his  foes,  to  confer 
on  him  a  stable  and  lasting  hope,  but  this  is  inci- 
dental also. 

Salvation  proposes  to  accomplish  all  this  by 
giving  life  the  right  direction.  "With  the  heart 
man  believeth  unto  righteousness."  One  is 
saved,  not  when  he  is  sinless,  unselfish,  seraphic, 
safe,  but  when  the  tendency  of  his  life  is  towards 
God. 

This  is  the  work  accomplished  in  regeneration. 
We  are  born  again.  We  become  partakers  of  the 
divine  nature.  Christ  is  formed  within  us  as  the 
hope  or  the  tendency  of  glory.  His  life  tendency 
is  imparted  to  us,  and  as  it  develops  it  takes  us 
the  way  He  went ;  and  "  we  know  that  when  He 
shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  Him  for  we  shall 
see  Him  as  He  is." 

Repentance  is  investing  life  with  a  new  direc- 


28  TENDENCY 

tion.  It  does  not  mean  that  one  is  merely  sorry 
for  his  sins,  but  that  he  is  sorry  enough  to  quit. 
Eepeutauce  is  not  tears  but  tendency. 

Conversion  is  simply  changing  one's  way.     It 
is  a  man  seeing  that  he  has  gone  wrong  and  com- 
ing back  to  where  he  started  wrong,  and  starting 
right. 
This  matter  of  tendency  is  also  the  tremendous 
J  fact  involved  in  choice.     God  keeps  His  hands  off 
when  it  comes  to  the  human  will.     He  pleads 
I  but  He  will  not  use  compulsion.     We  stand  where 
I  the  roads  divide,  and  the  will  chooses,  and  the 
-choice  determines  tendency.      If  the  choice  is 
wrong,    effort    and    character    and   destiny  are 
wrong ;     if   the    choice    is  right,    all    is  right. 
I   No  wonder  that  all  the  eloquence  of  heaven  is 
I    packed  into  the  appeal  which  says  :     "  Seek  ye 
i    the  Lord  while  He  may  be  found,  call  ye  upon 
Him  while  He  is  near  ;  let  the  wicked  forsake 
his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts  ; 
and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  He  will 
i    have  mercy  upon  him,  and  to  our  God,  for  He 
^     will  abundantly  pardon." 

Whither  •? 
Let  a  man  examine  himself  as  to  the  whither 
of  his  life.  With  eternity  in  view,  whither  ?  To 
keep  on  living  as  we  are  living  now,  where  will 
it  take  us  ?  We  must  keep  on  living.  Suicide 
will  not  stop  life.  It  will  only  take  off  the 
brakes.  We  must  keep  on  forever.  What  if  we 
are   on   the  wrong    road  ?    What  if  each  day 


WHITHEE  t  29 

but    takes    us    nearer  the   invisible  edge  of  a 
precipice  ? 

There  is  nothing  in  life  more  important  than 
to  get  right  with  God  who  alone  is  life's  true 
goal.  And  the  way  to  get  right  with  God  is  to 
accept  Christ  as  a  Saviour  and  follow  Him.  He 
is  the  way  to  God.  If  there  be  a  heaven  any- 
where it  is  in  Christ's  direction.  If  eternal  hap- 
piness is  to  be  had,  it  is  out  there  towards  Him. 
Christ  is  the  direction,  the  tendency,  the  way, 
and  no  man  cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by  Him. 

''Whither  I  go  ye  know,  and  the  way  ye 
know." 

When  Christ  said  it,  right  before  Him  stood 
the  cross,  but  beyond  its  shame  and  suffering 
glimmered  the  sheen  of  the  white  throne.  He 
says  :  "If  any  man  will  come  after  Me,  let  him 
deny  himself  and  take  up  his  cross  and  follow 
Me."  One  should  not  be  frightened  by  the  sight 
of  a  cross.  It  is  the  sign-post  on  the  road  to  the  ' 
throne.  While  the  road  may  be  rough  and  long 
and  steep  and  marked  by  a  cross,  if  it  lead  at 
last  to  the  Father's  house,  it  is  enough.  "Be- 
loved, now  are  we  the  sons  of  God  ;  and  it  doth 
not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be  ;  but  we  know 
that,  when  He  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like 
Him,  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is.  And  every 
man  that  hath  this  hope  "  or  this  tendency,  "  in 
him  purifieth  himself,  even  as  He  is  pure."  ^ 

>  1  John  iii.  2,  3. 


/! 


II 

DOWN  FROM  THE  HEIGHTS 

"  No  man  is  hurt  but  by  himself." — Diogenes. 

It  does  not  take  a  very  close  study  of  human 
nature  to  discover  what  may  be  called  ' '  a  coun- 
ter tendency,"  or  at  least  "  cross  currents." 

Man  has  not  always  gone  and  does  not  always 
go  in  the  direction  of  himself. 

Possessed  of  elements  that  make  for  divinity, 
he  has  not  always  manifested  divine  inclinations. 

Just  as  in  the  natural  world  there  are  found 
the  unmistakable  evidences  of  violent  eruptions 
and  planet  changing,  continent-making,  hemis- 
phere-destroying upheavals  ;  so  in  human  per- 
sonality are  found  the  traces  of  a  tragic  past  and 
the  undeniable  evidences  of  moral  tragedy. 

One  may  call  this  by  either  a  scientific  or  a 
theological  term.  He  may  explain  it  by  the 
doctrine  of  sin  or  by  the  theory  of  evolution  ; 
but  the  signs  are  downward  and  they  indicate 
not  ascent  but  descent. 

Somewhere  human  nature  has  suffered  a  lapse. 
There  has  been  a  fall.  Man's  tendency  has  re- 
versed itself,  and  the  race,  for  the  time  at  least, 
has  seemed  to  thwart  the  divine  purpose. 

This  tumble  down  from  the  heights,  as  in  the 
30 


DOWN  FROM  THE  HEIGHTS  31 

crossing  of  some  valley  to  reach  a  higher  range, 
may  have  had,  in  the  eternal  ijlan,  for  its  ultimate 
purpose  a  higher  life  for  man.  Who  shall  say  ? 
The  problem  of  the  existence  of  evil  is  the  one 
insoluble  mystery.  But  however  it  is  to  be  used, 
sin  is  a  fact,  and  the  fall  of  man  was  the  tragedy 
of  the  race. 

The  author  of  the  Eighth  Psalm,  in  a  striking 
line,  portrays  man  before  this  descent  manifested 
itself.  He  says  :  ''  Thou  hast  made  him  but 
little  lower  than  God." 

It  is  the  translation  of  the  Hebrew  text  as 
found  in  the  American  Revised  Version.  The 
translation  is  correct,  but  its  audacity  is  striking. 
At  last  the  translators  have  had  the  courage  to 
put  into  English  just  what  the  Hebrew  says. 
The  old  translation  is  ' '  Thou  hast  made  him  a 
little  lower  than  the  angels"  ;  but  the  word  is 
not  the  word  for  angels.  It  is  '^  Elohim,"  the 
word  which  everywhere  else  is  translated  "  God," 
and  the  daring  thing  affirmed  is  not  that  God 
made  man  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  but  that 
He  made  him  but  little  lower  than  God  ! 

The  race  started  high.  At  the  beginning  of 
his  career  man's  moral  and  spiritual  plane  was 
but  little  lower  than  that  of  the  Deity.  Human- 
ity is  Jehovah's  finest  product.  God's  greatest 
work  is  not  a  planet,  a  shining  sun,  an  ether  sea, 
a  potent  law,  a  celestial  city  ;  it  is  not  singing 
angels  and  shining  seraphim,  but  man.  At  the 
summit  of  creation  God  made  man  but  little 
lower  than  God,  stamped  him  with  the  divine 


32  TENDENCY 

I  image,   crowned  him,  and  gave  him  dominion 
over  all  creatures. 

A  modern  sensational  writer  of  freak  fiction 
undertakes  to  tell  the  story  of  man  "before 
Adam."  The  story  is  a  nightmare.  The  writer 
takes  his  readers  among  the  beasts.  His  heroes 
are  half  human,  half  brute.  Groping  amid  pre- 
historic shadows,  he  tries  to  show  how  man  has 
slowly  fought  his  way  uj)  out  of  bestiality  and 
carnality,  out  of  ferocious  appetites  and  base  lusts 
and  constant  fears  to  a  point  where  human  na- 
ture, at  the  lowest  stage  of  moral  filth  and  spir- 
itual stupidity,  has  emerged.  There  is,  of 
course,  no  evidence  that  the  story  is  true.  Con- 
sidered as  the  output  of  an  excited  imagination, 
working  overtime,  the  story  is  interesting  ;  but 
treated  as  either  science  or  religion,  it  is  not  val- 
uable. Compared  with  the  doctrine  of  the  origin 
of  man,  contained  in  the  old  Hebrew  Psalm,  it  is 
as  a  swamp  to  the  Garden  of  Eden,  as  dull  clay 
to  gleaming  diamonds. 

"  Thou  hast  made  him  but  little  lower  than  God, 
And  crowned  him  with  glory  and  honour. 
Thou  madest  him  to  have  dominion  over  the  works  of  Thy 

hands ; 
Thou  hast  put  all  things  under  his  feet." 

,        This  is  the  Bible  doctrine  of  the  origin  of  man, 

5    and  it  takes  us  to  the  heights.     To  be  a  member 

of  the  human  race,  the  Psalmist  declares,  is  to 

come  of  a  great  line.     It  is  to  have  Jehovah  for 

an   hereditary  ancestor.     It    is    to    trace  one's 


DOWN  FROM  THE  HEIGHTS  33 

descent  from  altitudes  but  little  lower  than  the 
lofty  peaks  whose  dizzy  heights  lose  themselves  in 
the  clouds  of  the  infinite,  where  Divine  Being 
has  its  explanation.  To  have  the  blood  of  man 
in  your  veins  is  to  be  dowered  with  a  heritage  of 
being  past  the  price  of  all  worlds  and  the  glory  ' 
of  all  angels. 

One  may  be  a  very  lowly,  a  very  humble  and 
obscure  and  unworthy  member  of  this  human 
race  ;  he  may  be  some  unfortunate  defective  or 
cripple ;  he  may  be  a  vagabond  on  the  streets,  a 
waif  without  a  home,  a  criminal  in  a  dungeon, 
the  victim  of  his  own  vices ;  but  upon  him  there 
lingers  the  tracery  of  the  skies  and  about  him  is 
the  livery,  though  in  rags,  of  the  life  that  is  but 
little  lower  than  God.  He  belongs  to  the  first 
family  of  the  realm.  He  possesses  a  dignity  un- 
equalled by  all  material  things.  He  has  a  soul ; 
and  Jesus  was  speaking  calmly  and  without  ex- 
aggeration when  He  said  :  ^'  What  shall  it  profit 
a  man  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose 
his  own  soul  ?  " 

So  startling  a  statement  cannot  hope  to  go  un- 
challenged. There  are  two  facts  whose  challenge 
may  be  considered. 

The  Challenge  of  Size 
The  first  is  the  challenge  of  size.  It  confronted 
the  poet  of  the  oi'igin  of  man.  It  overwhelmed 
him  in  the  very  moment  he  was  declaring  that 
man  was  sprung  from  God.  In  an  outburst  of 
poetic  passion  he  exclaims  :    ' '  You  have  made 


34  TENDENCY 

him  but  little  lower  than  God,"  but  even  as  he 
says  it,  the  absurd  audacity  of  the  thiug  seems  to 
seize  him,  and  before  the  line  is  dry,  he  asks 
permission  to  revise.     He  says : 

"  When  I  consider  Thy  heavens,  the  work  of  Thy  fingers, 
The  moon  and  the  stars,  which  Thon  hast  ordained, 
What  is  man,  that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him  ? 
And  the  son  of  man,  that  Thou  visitest  him  ?  " 

That  is,  he  looks  around  him  at  the  big  world. 
He  sees  the  glowing  sun  and  shining  moon  and 
radiant  stars ;  he  beholds  the  majestic  forces  of 
nature  ;  he  hears  the  roar  of  the  tempest  and  feels 

Ithe  breath  of  the  storm-wind  and  sees  the  leap  of 
the  thunderbolt ;  he  walks  out  under  the  sky  at 
night  and  lifts  his  eyes  to  the  matchless  starry 
host ;  he  takes  in  all  the  grandeur  and  glory  of 
that  fadeless  pageantry  ;  and  then  he  comes  back 
I    to  himself,   to  his  weakness,   his  littleness,   his 
jj'  obscurity,  his  infinitely  less  than  minor  part  in 
j' :  the  big  world's  affairs,  and  he  seems  to  say  :  "It 
i    cannot  be,  the  song  is  false.     In  a  big  world  like 
this,  man  is  too  infinitesimal  to  claim  the  atten- 
tion of  the  mighty  God.     He  is  lost  amid  its 
splendours,  hopelessly  dwarfed  amid  its  stupen- 
dous statures." 
I     If  the  ancient  singer  felt  this,  how  much  more 
■must  we  ;  for  ours  is  a  bigger  world  than  his. 

The  study  of  astronomy  is  a  salutary  discipline 
for  human  conceit.  To  gaze  upon  heaven's  spec- 
tacular, to  let  the  imagination  wander  through 
endless  systems  of  worlds  spread  out  on  the  map 


DOWN  FEOM  THE  HEIGHTS  35 

of  space ;  and  then  to  come  back  to  one's  own 
tiny  planet  and  dying  race  and  puny  self,  is  to 
be  in  the  mood  to  ask  :    "  What  is  man  that/; 
Thou  art  mindful  of  him  ?  " 

Since  the  Psalmist's  day,  the  telescope  has 
been  invented  and  stars  he  never  dreamed  of 
brought  to  sight.  The  Milky  Way  has  been 
found  to  be  not  merely  a  band  of  light  on  the 
brow  of  night,  but  an  innumerable  host  of  indi- 
vidual stars,  massed  in  solid  phalanx,  marching 
in  close  and  serried  ranks  across  the  fields  of 
space,  until  we  catch  but  the  gleam  of  their  shin- 
ing armour.  Since  his  day  the  photographic 
eye  has  been  invented,  and  there  have  been 
added  to  the  roof  of  the  heavens  vast  systems  of 
the  starry  world,  invisible  to  the  natural  eye 
even  with  the  aid  of  the  most  powerful  telescope. 
Worlds  have  been  added  to  worlds,  systems  to 
systems,  out  through  the  infinite  spaces,  until 
the  heavens  have  become  a  stellar  host  in  com- 
parison with  which  the  Psalmist's  starry  galaxy 
was  but  a  corporal's  guard.  If  the  size  of  the 
world  was  a  challenge  in  his  day,  how  much 
more  in  ours  ? 

The  doubt  which  rises  in  this  challenge  we  feel. 
It  makes  us  skeptics.  God  is  too  great.  His  U 
affairs  too  vast,  and  man  too  small  for  God  to  n 
care.  Man  is  but  a  part  of  the  dust  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  the  insect  life  of  a  little  planet  which 
itself  will  some  day  run  its  course  and  drop  into 
the  sun.  Man  is  only  a  mote  swimming  in  a 
sunbeam,  a  worm  crawling  around  the  angle  of  a 


36  TENDENCY 

clod,  an  insect  asleep  on  a  leaf.  To  say  that  the 
God  who  presides  over  all  worlds  singled  out  a 
single  member  of  the  midget  tenantry  of  a  tiny 
planet  for  His  special  care,  is  incredible.  Our 
prayers  can  never  reach  Him.  Amid  the  rush- 
ing, endless  worlds  of  this  labyrinthine  universe 
the  weak  petitions  of  our  timid  hearts  can  never 
find  their  way  to  the  great  throne. 

The  doctrine  of  a  start  on  the  heights  may  pass 
as  poetry,  but  considered  as  serious  prose,  it  be- 
comes a  solemn  farce.  This  is  the  doubt  which 
preys  on  us. 

The  Challenge  of  Sin 
The  second  challenge  is  even  more  serious.  It 
is  the  challenge  of  sin.  It  sires  the  doubt  which 
comes,  not  as  we  look  around,  but  as  we  look 
within.  It  is  the  doubt  which  arose  in  the  mind 
of  the  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
when  he  tried  to  say  with  one  in  a  certain 
place  :  ' '  Thou  hast  made  him  but  little  lower 
than  God." 

He  quotes  the  old  line.  He  repeats  the  ancient 
doctrine  of  the  origin  of  man.  He  recites  the 
early  glory  of  the  heights.  He  tells  us  how  God 
wrought  at  the  summit  and  made  man  in  His 
image,  and  crowned  him  with  the  empire  of  the 
world.  Then  he  looks,  not  at  the  face  of  the 
stars,  but  into  the  faces  of  his  fellow  men.  He 
looks  down  into  his  own  guilty  heart  and 
darkened  mind.  He  looks  at  fallen,  sinful 
human  nature.     He  sees  man  imbruted,  his  face 


DOWN  FKOM  THE  HEIGHTS  37 

written  over  with  the  ruiu  of  God's  law  and  his 
powers  eaten  out  with  hist,  and  he  says:  **It 
cannot  be.  The  song  is  false.  Man  is  too  vile 
to  claim  the  care  of  the  holy  God,"  and  the  old 
doubt  breaks  forth  afresh. 

"  What  is  man  that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him  ? 
And  the  son  of  man  that  Thou  visitest  him? '' 

That  is  the  awful  cloud ;  this  is  the  real 
tragedy ;  not  what  man  was  before  Adam,  but 
what  he  is  after  Adam  ;  after  centuries  of  tuition, 
after  ages  of  divine  opportunity,  after  dispensa- 
tions of  the  Bible  and  the  Cross  and  the  Holy 
Spirit.  What  has  man  achieved  ?  What  are 
his  accomplishments  *? 

We  see  him  fallen  so  low  that  the  angels  weep 
over  his  downfall.  We  see  him  living  with  a 
thin  edge  between  him  and  eternal  despair.  We 
see  him  dwelling  on  the  verge  of  that  lost  world, 
the  smoke  of  whose  torment  ascendeth  forever 
and  ever.  We  see  him  cursed  by  want,  dis- 
figured by  hate,  defiled  by  vice,  haunted  by  fear. 
We  see,  under  our  very  eyes,  massacres  in 
nations  claiming  to  be  civilized,  racial  atrocities, 
daily  crimes  whose  trial  in  the  courts  of  justice 
leads  us  to  close  our  windows  and  bar  our  doors 
to  save  the  children  from  defilement.  We  see 
man  the  author  and  agent  of  infamies  and 
iniquities  that  cry  to  high  heaven  for  redress. 
This  is  what  we  see.  "  We  see  not  yet  all  things 
put  under  him. ' ' 

This  is  the  challenge  that  makes  us  falter  as 


38  TENDENCY 

we  read  the  ancient  song.     This  is  the  fact  that 
made  the  translators  hesitate.     It  sounds  almost 
like  sacrilege  to  recite  the  origin  of  such  a  crea- 
tui'e  as  next  to  godhood.     Granted  that  prayer 
can  find  its  way  through  the  rushing  worlds,  how 
can  petitions  from  lips  so  stained  find  an  audi- 
ence at  that  white  throne?    Our  sins  condemn 
.  us.     It  is  the  image  of  the  beast  which  we  bear, 
R  the  vices  which  rot  in  our  flesh,  the  passions 
ft  which  riot  in  our  blood,  that  seem  to  make  the 
old  song  false. 

Yet,  despite  the  challenge,  the  song  is  true. 
Though  with  faltering  lips  and  a  fainting  heart, 
yet  with  a  voice  which  all  the  ages  must  hear,  it 
peals  out  its  great  creed  of  man  :  ' '  Thou  hast 
made  him  but  little  lower  than  God." 

The  Challenge  of  Size  Eefuted 

Nature  itself  answers  the  challenge  of  size. 

The  very  heavens,  which  seemed  to  say  that  God 

is  too  great  to  notice  so  small  a  creature  as  man, 

say  that  God  is  too  great  not  to  notice  him.     The 

microscope  has  uncovered  the  world  below  man, 

just  as  the  telescope  has  uncovered  the  world 

above  him.     The  microscopic  world  is  as  full  of 

divinity  as  the  telescopic.     Tiny  molecules,  un- 

.  der  the  microscope,   break    up   into    planetary 

1  and  solar  and  sidereal  systems,   all  moving  in 

perfect  harmony  with  the  music  of  the  spheres 

and  repeating  on  the  scale  of  the  infinitesimal 

the  phenomena  of  the  macrocosm. 

Sir  Oliver  Lodge  estimates  that  if  a  dewdrop 


DOWN  FEOM  THE  HEIGHTS  39 

were  enlarged  to  the  size  of  our  planet,  the 
molecules  of  hj'drogen  it  contains  would  be  about 
the  size  of  au  orange.  Compute  how  many 
oranges  would  be  required  to  make  a  ball  the 
size  of  the  earth  ;  as  many  molecules  reside  in  a 
dewdrop.  And  yet,  each  of  these  molecules  is  a 
little  world  of  its  own,  with  planets  revolving 
around  a  central  sun,  and  all  under  the  same  law 
of  the  one  master  mind  that  made  and  governs 
all.  That  is,  size  is  nothing  to  God.  He  is  as 
much  in  the  atom  as  in  the  universe. 

Thus  nature  itself  gives  the  lie  to  the  doubt, 
which  would  represent  God  as  sitting  far  off  on 
the  rim  of  the  distant  heavens,  taking  no  interest 
in  the  affairs  of  a  tiny  planet  and  a  fallen  race. 
He  is  the  God  who  steers  the  Pleiades,  but  He 
is  also  the  God  who  guides  the  sparrow  in  its 
flight.  He  is  the  God  who  feeds  "a  billion 
blazing  suns,"  but  He  is  also  the  God  who 
hovers  over  the  tiny  seed  as  it  goes  to  sleep  in 
the  sod.  His  care  runs  up  to  heights  and  out 
to  vastnesses  of  which  man  has  never  dreamed, 
and  likewise  down  to  iusignificancies  so  minute 
as  to  beggar  all  tables  of  calculation. 

This  is  Christ's  message  to  man  when  He  takes 
a  withered  blade  of  grass,  a  bird  with  a  broken 
wing,  a  lily  in  the  field,  and  says  :  "If  God  care 
for  them,  how  much  more  for  you,  oh,  ye  of  little 
faith"?"  This  is  the  God  to  whom  we  make  our 
appeal,  and  as  we  do,  the  heavens  and  the. earth 
begin  to  say,  "Thou  hast  made  him  but  little 
lower  than  God." 


40  TENDENCY 

The  Challenge  of  Sin  Eefuted 
The  man  himself  refutes  the  challenge  of  sin. 
After  the  worst  has  been  said  about  him,  there 
is  something  in  man  that  refuses  to  be  explained 
by  a  process  of  nature,  something  that  no  cell  of 
protoplasm  could  ever  evolve,  and  no  course  of 
discipline  create.  The  music  in  the  great  organ 
is  made  by  the  air  passing  through  the  pipes,  but 
there  is  something  in  one  of  Haydn's  oratorios 
which  all  the  atmospheres  of  time  blowing  through 
the  tubes  of  space  could  not  produce.  The  sap 
that  rises  in  a  rose-bush  to  the  leaves  of  the  flower 
it  carries,  is  not  the  same  as  the  love  which  rises 
from  a  mother's  heart  to  her  lips  as  she  croons  a 
lullaby  over  the  babe  in  her  arms,  the  fruit  of 
her  own  life.  A  lump  of  pig-iron  outweighs  the 
brain  of  Dante  and  Milton  and  Darwin,  but 
there  is  something  in  the  gray  matter  of  the  brain 
that  no  scales  have  ever  been  able  to  register. 

The  very  capacity  to  sin  is  a  certificate  of  man's 
high  origin.  He  is  the  only  being  with  so  sublime 
a  capacity.  It  proves  that  he  is  fallen,  but  it 
also  harks  back  to  the  lofty  heights  from  which 
he  fell. 

The  power  of  thought  is  a  relic  of  divinity  in 
man.  The  stars  are  wonderful,  the  atoms  amaz- 
ing, but  more  wonderful  is  the  mind  that  meas- 
ures them,  and  explains  their  process.  In  his 
Fernley  Lecture,  "The  Unrealized  Logic  of  Ee- 
ligion,"  Dr.  Fitchett  relates  the  discovery  of  the 
planet  Neptune,  and  calls  it  the  "romance  of 
astronomy."     He  says:  "It  was  noted  that  at 


DOWN  FEOM  THE  HEIGHTS  41 

one  point  in  its  track  through  space,  the  planet 
Uranus  swung  outward  from  the  perfect  curve  of 
its  orbit.  What  drew  the  great  planet  from  its 
course  ?  Two  astronomers,  independently  of  each 
other,  solved  the  problem.  Some  unknown  mass 
across  millions  of  leagues  deflected  the  rushing 
orb  in  its  course.  They  calculated  the  distance, 
the  diversion,  the  weight  of  the  disturbing  body, 
and  climbing  up,  so  to  speak,  on  the  slenderest 
thread  of  mathematical  calculations,  through 
measureless  altitudes  of  untracked  space,  they 
found  the  new  planet." 

The  intellect  that  can  conquer  space  and  calcu- 
late the  schedules  of  the  infinite  and  wrest  from 
distant  and  undiscovered  worlds  their  secrets,  is 
not  to  be  put  in  the  dull  list  of  acids  and  alkalis, 
and  explained  by  a  natural  process.  Its  powers 
are  the  outflashings  of  a  soul  sprung  from  the 
loins  of  godhood. 

Consciousness  is  further  evidence  of  the  sanity 
of  this  position.  A  planet  plunges  through  space 
but  it  does  not  know  it.  It  is  a  blind,  dead,  in- 
ert mass.  Man  stands  in  the  midst  of  colossal 
forces  that  appall  him,  and  could  easily  destroy 
him,  but  he  is  conscious  of  himself.  He  knows, 
and  he  knows  that  he  knows.  Nature  may  crush 
him,  but  there  is  this  eternal  difference  between 
him  and  his  destroyer.     He  knows. 

Personality,  that  marvellous  correlation  of 
thought,  feeling  and  volition  in  the  human,  is 
another  sign  amid  the  ruins  of  sinful  human 
nature  attesting  the  high  hour  of  its  birth. 


42  TENDENCY 

The  possibility  of  growth  is  another.     Man 

\ possesses    an   apparently  limitless  capacity  for 

moral  and  spiritual  development.     He  has  within 

him  a  quality  which  enables  him  to  take  on  the 

culture  of  God. 

All  of  this,  and  much  more  that  might  be 

mentioned,  shows  that  there  are  at  least  sufficient 

/',  signs  remaining  to  trace  the  footprints  of  Deity 

;  as  God  passed  through  man's  soul  the  morning  of 

1  creation.     The  strongest  confirmation,  however, 

remains  to  be  mentioned. 

Jesus 

The  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  lifted 
his  eye  from  the  face  of  fallen  man  to  the  face  of 
the  Son  of  Man  and  exclaimed  :  ''Now  we  see 
not  yet  all  things  put  under  him,  but  we  see 
Jesus."  Jesus  is  the  triumphant  vindication  of 
the  high  origin  of  man. 

He  came  to  reveal  God,  to  tear  aside  the  veil 
human  fear  had  woven  across  the  face  of  Deity. 
He  succeeded,  and  said:  "He  that  hath  seen 
Me  hath  seen  the  Father." 

But  He  came  also  to  reveal  man,  to  tear  away 
the  disguises  sin  had  woven  around  the  human, 
to  show  the  higher,  the  finer,  the  divine  possi- 
bilities there  are  for  every  soul  in  Him.  He  has 
succeeded  here  also.  ''Whosoever  believeth 
that  Jesus  is  the  Christ  is  born  of  God." 

We  see  the  world's  vastness  and  man's  little- 
ness, and  say:  "What  is  man  that  Thou  art 
mindful  of  him?" 


DOWN  FROM  THE  HEIGHTS  43 

We  see  God's  holiness  and  man's  sinfulness, 
and  say  :  ' '  What  is  man  that  Thou  art  mindful 
of  him?" 

Then  we  see  Jesus.  We  see  how  low  divine 
love  can  stoop  and  how  high  it  can  lift ;  and  once 
more  the  ancient  song  arises  without  a  broken 
note  : 

"Thou  hast  made  him  but  little  lower  than  God  !  " 

In  view  of  all  this,  no  wonder  there  is  a  divine 
concern  for  man's  redemption.  The  fall  of  man 
was  the  tragedy  that  shook  the  universe. 

It  is  the  value  of  human  nature  that  makes  the 
ruin  of  a  soul  so  stupendous  a  catastrophe.  It  is 
second  only  to  the  disaster  of  the  fall  of  God 
Himself.  Men  speak  of  eternal  punishment,  but 
there  is  no  plummet  to  sound  such  depths.  We 
have  no  way  of  estimating  the  loss  of  a  soul  that 
goes  staggering  down  from  heights  which  border 
on  godhood  into  the  eternal  darkness,  to  grope 
amid  fears,  to  be  chained  by  vices,  and  to  be 
tormented  by  appetites  unfed  forever.  No  won- 
der all  heaven  was  aghast  at  the  spectacle  of 
man's  fall. 


Ill 

THE  SIRENS 

"  It  is  the  little  rift  within  the  lute, 
That  by  and  by  will  make  the  music  mute, 
And  ever  widening,  slowly  silence  all." 

— Alfred  Tennyson. 

In  the  mythology  of  ancient  Greece,  there  is 
the  story  of  the  sirens,  the  sea-nymphs  who  dwelt 
on  an  island  in  the  southern  sea,  and  whose  se- 
ductive music  lulled  to  sleep  the  sailors  whose 
boats  came  too  near  the  fatal  shore.  Then,  while 
their  victims  slept,  the  sirens  exchanged  murder 
for  song  and  slew  the  poor  wretches  who  had 
yielded  to  their  evil  spell.  In  vain  were  all 
efforts  to  awaken  the  sleepers.  Insensible  alike 
to  the  entreaties  of  love,  the  commands  of  duty, 
and  the  appeals  of  honour  ;  shackled  by  the  in- 
visible fetters  of  the  strange  slumber  into  which 
the  song  of  the  sorceresses  had  cast  them,  their 
voyage  ended  in  oblivion  and  a  nameless  grave 
on  the  tide-washed  sands. 

In  a  passage  of  rare  beauty,  Charles  Kingsley 
has  described  the  surrender  of  the  sailors  to  the 
song  of  the  sirens  : 

"  They  could  see  the  sirens  on  Anthemousa, 
the  flowery  isle  ;  three  fair  maidens  sitting  on 
the  beach,  beneath  the  red  rock  in  the  setting 
44 


THE  SIEENS  45 

sun,  amid  beds  of  crimson  poppies  and  golden 
asphodel  ;  slowly  they  sang  and  sleepily,  with 
silver  voices  mild  and  clear,  which  stole  over  the 
golden  waters  and  into  the  hearts  of  all  the 
heroes,  in  spite  of  Orpheus'  song  ;  and  as  they 
listened,  the  oars  fell  from  their  hands  and  their 
heads  drooped  on  their  breasts,  and  they  closed 
their  heavy  eyes  ;  and  they  dreamed  of  bright 
still  gardens,  and  of  slumbers  under  murmuring 
pines,  till  all  their  toil  seemed  foolishness  and 
they  thought  of  their  renown  no  more." 

This  ancient  myth  was  the  Greeks'  story  of  the 
fall  of  man.  It  enshrines  the  same  great  strug- 
gles with  temptation  that  the  Hebrew  mind  has 
set  forth  in  the  song  of  the  lost  Eden. 

Human  nature,  in  the  splendour  of  its  high 
origin,  was  not  exempt  from  temptation.  Even  n 
the  sinless  Christ,  who  was  the  faultless  embodi- 
ment of  what  man  was  in  his  first  estate  and  of 
what  he  is  to  be  redeemed  and  glorified,  had  in 
Him  that  which  made  temptation  an  awful  reality. 
There  at  the  threshold  of  His  career,  the  sirens 
met  Him  as  they  had  met,  at  the  threshold  of  its 
career,  the  race  He  came  to  save. 

Christ    resisted    and    conquered    where    man 
yielded  and  fell,  and  where  man  continues  to   \ 
yield  and  fall. 

The  sirens  have  not  ceased  to  sing.  They  are 
still  the  temptations  that  would  destroy  and  their 
song  is  ever  the  music  that  would  lull  into  a  fatal 
stupor.  The  sea- nymphs  on  the  flowering  beach 
of  Anthemousa,  sitting  amid  the  perfumed  poppy 


46  TENDENCY 

beds,  are  those  influences  which  fascinate  the 
senses,  inflame  the  passions,  feed  all  carnal  appe- 
tites, but  mislead,  and,  at  last,  destroy  the  soul ; 
for  while  they  charm  the  sensual,  they  deaden 
the  spiritual.  They  come  with  fair  faces  and 
sweet  voices,  but  under  their  beguiling  appeals, 
judgment  is  deceived,  conscience  stupefied,  and 
reason  drugged  and  dethroned. 

It  is  the  surrender  to  temptation  that  takes  a 
human  life  out  of  its  true  course,  that  not  only 
arrests  development,  but  dominates  personality 
with  the  madness  that  ends  in  ruin. 

In  the  book  of  Proverbs  there  is  a  line  which 
portrays  temptation  very  much  in  the  same  terms 
as  the  Greek  myth  :  ' '  Yet  a  little  sleep,  a  little 
slumber,  a  little  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep."  * 

Manhood  is  falling  into  the  fatal  stupor,  the 
boat  is  drifting  nearer  the  shore  of  death,  the 
sails  flap  in  the  idle  winds,  the  oars  drift  with 
the  tide,  and  the  rudder  is  at  the  mercy  of  the 
waves.  Life  has  ceased  to  be  a  struggle,  and  a 
being  whose  destiny  was  meant  to  be  as  high  as 
heaven  finds  a  nameless  grave  beside  the  couch 
of  a  sorceress. 

For  sin  is  ever  a  sorceress.  Temptation  is  not 
an  angel ;  it  is  merely  the  counterfeit  of  an  angel. 
It  comes  with  seductive  ways  and  a  song.  It 
looks  like  an  angel,  sings  like  an  angel  ;  other- 
wise it  would  have  no  power  to  beguile.  If 
temptation  were  to  come  with  the  mask  torn  off, 
[with  its  ghastly  deformities  and  awful  ugliness 

'  Prov.  vi.  10, 


THE  SIEENS  47 

naked  and  exposed,  if  it  were  to  speak  in  the  »< 
hoarse  and  strident  tones  of  hate  or  in  the  treach-  ■ 
erous  accents  of  falsehood  and  deceit,  it  would  • 
cast  no  spell.  We  should  laugh  in  its  face  and  ' 
kick  it  out.  But  it  conies  like  a  siren  and  cap- 
tures with  a  song. 

Perhaps  at  first  there  may  be  some  vague  sense 
of  danger  and  the  soul  try  to  arouse  itself  and 
shake  off  the  evil  spell,  but  like  a  bird  charmed 
by  a  snake,  conscious  of  peril  but  rooted  by  a 
strange  fascination,  the  will  seems  soon  to  lose 
its  power  to  resist.  A  fatal  drowsiness  creeps 
on ;  there  is  an  undefined  fear,  a  vague  alarm  ; 
but  the  siren  sings,  and  at  last  reluctance  is  over- 
coDie. 

The  soul  surrenders  itself  to  the  delicious  sleep 
of  the  senses.  It  is  captured  by  temptation  and 
is  satisfied  to  be  a  slave.  No  alarm  excites,  no 
warning  reaches  the  ear,  and  the  drugged  spirit 
mistakes  stupor  for  repose  and  slumber  for  se- 
curity. 

It  is  possible  for  a  man  to  be  so  bewitched  by 
temptation  as  to  mistake  the  stupor  of  sin  for 
immunity  from  peril ;  to  imagine  that  there  is 
no  longer  any  danger  because  there  is  no  longer 
any  fear.  Conscience  has  ceased  to  trouble  him, 
and  he  concludes  that  all  is  well.  He  mistakes 
chloroform  for  cure,  insensibility  for  innocence, 
stupidity  for  safety,  a  dope  for  salvation. 

The  sirens  put  their  victims  to  sleep  only  to 
destroy  them.  The  loss  of  spiritual  sensitiveness 
is  one  of  the  most  alarming  symptoms  of  soul 


48  TENDENCY 

peril.  It  is  something  to  be  able  to  feel  pain,  to 
see  a  danger  signal,  to  have  a  conscience  that  can 
utter  a  protest,  to  be  so  filled  with  spiritual  alarm 
as  to  shake  off  the  invisible  foe,  whose  clutch  is 
at  your  throat,  long  enough  to  cry :  ' '  "What 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  I " 

The  sirens  sing  that  indulgence  is  better  than 
obedience.  This  was  the  temptation  that  ruined 
Eden.  It  is  perhaps  the  primal  transgression  in 
man's  downward  career. 

The  first  lesson  one  needs  to  learn,  who  would 
grow  into  the  life  of  God,  is  the  lesson  of  sub- 

y^  mission  to  the  supreme  will,  of  surrender  to  the 

1 1  impulses  whose  tides  are  towards  divine  compan- 

' !  ionship. 

This  involves  the  stern  repression  of  every 

"  tendency  that  is  in  conflict  with  the  eternal 
purpose,  and  implicit  obedience  to  the  infinite 
will. 

Sin,  however,  says  that  self-will  is  supreme. 
It  whispers  that  man  is  the  goal  of  his  own  ex- 
istence, that  he  has  no  higher  mission  than  to 
please  himself,  and  that  to  indulge  himself  is 
better  than  to  obey  his  master. 

The  man  who  surrenders  life  to  this  pleasant 
lie,  has  made  further  development  and  growth 

-  for  himself  impossible.     He  has  locked  the  gates 

f  of  glory  against  himself  and  barred  his  own  being 

^  out  from  fellowship  with  the  divine. 

The  sirens  sing  of  success  without  work.  They 
say  that  toil  is  irksome  and  struggle  useless  ;  that 
the    boat  will  drift  into  the  desired  harbour, 


THE  SIEENS  49 

blown  there  by  the  winds  of  fair  fortune  and 
good  luck  ;  and,  as  the  sailors  listen,  they  become 
sluggards  and  fall  away  from  the  mast,  desert 
the  wind-swept  deck,  and  say,  "  Yet  a  little 
sleep,  a  little  slumber,  a  little  folding  of  the 
hands  to  sleep." 

Is  not  this  the  dream  many  a  man  has  of  suc- 
cess? He  is  Ihiukiug  of  it  as  something  that  is 
to  drop  down  into  his  hand  fi'om  heaven,  ready 
made.  He  would  be  rich  quick.  He  would  be 
great  without  effort.  He  would  be  happy  with- 
out merit.  He  has  a  body  built  for  toil,  brains 
that  can  think,  and  powers  to  achieve.  He  is 
surrounded  by  circumstances  that  challenge  him 
to  do  his  best,  but  he  goes  through  life  doped, 
praying  for  a  windfall. 

Success  does  not  happen.     It  is  achieved.     It 
is  not  an  accident,  but  an  event.     It  is  the  prod- 
uct of  laborious  effort,   and  is  wrought  out  by  ]A 
years  of  steady,  toilsome  preparation  and  appli-  '• 
cation. 

We  see  the  day  of  a  man's  success,  the  spec- 
tacular moment,  and  say,  ''How  fortunate!" 
but  lift  the  curtain  and  behold  him  during  the 
long  years  getting  ready  for  his  coronation  ;  toil- 
ing, plodding  on,  doing  each  duty  as  best  he 
can.  Genius  is  steady,  homely,  downright 
work. 

The  law  of  labour  is  the  first  law  of  salvation 
enacted  by  God  for  man.  Having  lost  Eden  by 
substituting  indulgence  for  obedience,  man  went 
out  of  his  first  kingdom  of  innocence,  condemned ; 


50  TENDENCY 

but  as  he  passed  through  the  gates  of  the  happy 
life  he  had  lost,  God  said,  "  Work !  In  the 
sweat  of  thy  face  thou  shalt  eat  thy  bread." 

To  regard  work  as  a  curse  is  to  give  one's 
theology  a  fatal  twist  in  the  opening  chapter. 

The  man  to  whom  success  comes  as  a  windfall, 
into  whose  lap  a  heritage  of  fortune  drops  out  of 
a  clear  sky,  who  finds  himself,  by  the  trick  of 
events,  suddenly  thrust  into  a  high  place  of 
power  for  which  neither  nature  nor  previous 
training  has  fitted  him,  is  to  be  pitied  rather 
than  envied.  He  is  not  the  favourite  of  fortune 
so  much  as  its  victim.  His  seeming  quick  suc- 
cess is  but  the  method  by  which  fate  has  decreed 
his  speedier  undoing.  His  great  place  has  only 
made  glaring  the  small  measures  of  one  whose 
defects  might  have  remained  unnoticed  out  of 
the  lime-light  of  publicity. 

The  voices  which  sing  of  success  without  toil, 
of  honour  without  fitness,  are  the  voices  of  a 
sorceress  who  would  cast  a  spell  on  life  to  destroy 
it.  They  are  a  part  of  the  temptation  by  which 
the  soul  suffers  defeat  and  its  God-given  tend- 
encies are  paralyzed. 

The  sirens  sing  of  sin  without  suffering.  They 
say  that  innocence  is  homely  and  virtue  plain, 
and  that  a  life  of  self-restraint  is  a  life  without 
thrills.  They  fling  prudence  to  the  winds  and 
exclaim  :  ' '  Stolen  pleasures  are  sweet,  and  bread 
eaten  in  secret  is  pleasant.  Thrust  in  !  He  is  a 
coward  who  fears  to  take  a  plunge  in  the  tide  of 
forbidden    delights.     There    is    no  danger  this 


THE  SIEENS  61 

once.     Stifle  conscience,  put  the  soul  to  sleep, 
and  for  one  night  give  flesh  a  full  rein." 

Is  not  this  the  song  that  sings  its  wild  notes 
into  the  hot  blood  of  many  a  youth  ?  "  One  can 
do  wrong  without  damage.  He  can  be  dishonest 
this  once  and  no  one  ever  be  the  wiser.  He  can 
be  impure  and  no  stain  be  left.  He  can  be  un- 
truthful for  the  time,  and  hide  his  tracks  forever. 
He  can  have  his  fling  and  sow  his  wild  oats,  and 
somehow  escape  the  harvest  of  remorse  and  re- 
gret." 

This  is  what  youth  hears  as  it  sails  by  the 
poppy  beds  of  Anthemousa.  It  is  the  song  that 
lures  to  death. 

Sin  stupefies.  It  is  a  dope.  It  deadens  con- 
science. 

The  sleep  of  sin  is  ever  a  fatal  stupor.  It  is 
impossible  to  sin  and  not  suffer.  ''  Whatsoever 
a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap."  ^*The 
soul  that  sinjieth,  it  shall  die."  Many  a  man 
dies,  like  Samson  with  his  head  in  Delilah's  lap, 
sleeping  his  chance  of  greatness  away,  while  the 
sorceress  shears  him  of  his  strength.  It  is  no, 
sign  of  courage  to  do  wrong.  It  is  merely  a 
symptom  of  that  madness  in  the  soul  which  un- 
fits one  to  diagnose  peril. 

The  ancient  myth,  in  which  the  Greeks  recited 
the  story  of  the  soul's  defeat,  goes  on  to  say  that 
many  were  those  who  fell  a  victim  to  the  sirens' 
song.  Ship  after  ship  sailed  away  to  come  back 
no  more  to  the  home  port.  At  last  Ulysses  ad- 
ventured the  waters  that  washed  the  shores  of 


Il 


52  TENDENCY 

the  sirens'  isle,  but  ere  the  soDg  of  the  sea- nymphs 
could  lay  hold  of  him  and  of  his  men,  he  plugged 
the  ears  of  his  Siiilors  with  wax  aud  had  them 
lash  him  to  the  mast,  leaving  every  sail  unfurled 
and  the  rudder  set  to  the  open  sea.  Thus  he 
safely  passed  the  dreaded  island,  whereupon  the 
sirens  in  rage  threw  themselves  into  the  sea  and 
changed  themselves  into  dangerous  rocks ;  that 
in  the  form  of  a  new  and  closer  peril,  they  might 
destroy  the  li%'es  of  those  who  sailed  the  seas. 

The  myth  may  still  teach  us  the  story  of 
human  struggle  with  temptation,  and  while  it 
suggests  that  temptation,  defeated  at  one  point, 
renews  the  attack  at  another,  it  also  indicates 
how  temptation  itself  is  to  be  defeated. 

One  must  be  deaf  to  its  message.  He  must  be 
blind  to  its  chai-ms.  He  must  not  look  upon  sin 
"with  the  least  degree  of  allowance."  This  is 
God's  attitude,  and  it  must  be  the  attitude  of 
every  soul  that  would  grow  into  God's  likeness. 

The  way  to  become  deaf  to  the  call  of  evil  is  to 
fill  the  soul  with  the  voices  of  divine  truth.  The 
way  to  become  blind  to  its  fascinations  is  to 
dwell  on  "One  who  is  the  chiefest  among  ten 
thousand  and  the  one  altogether  lovely."  Temp- 
tation cannot  be  entirely  avoided.  Our  boat 
must  sail  by  it,  but  if  one  know  the  truth,  the 
truth  shall  make  him  free  and  keep  him  free. 

He  is  safe  who  lashes  himself  to  the  mast  of 
duty,  who  occupies  all  his  powers  with  the  kind 
of  work  God  has  for  a  man  to  do  in  this  world. 
Evil  can  do  little  with  one  who  is  positive.     It 


THE  SIRENS  53 

is  the  idle,  listless,  negative  souls  that  sin  takes 
captive.  Let  a  man  so  tie  himself  up  to  duty 
that  he  cauuot  get  away  from  it,  and  all  the 
sirens  of  sin  will  sing  to  him  in  vain.  For  him  A 
* '  All'  8  well. ' '  He  will  sail  a  straight  course  and 
will  reach  the  "  desired  haven." 


rv 

DIVINE  COMPASSION 

"So  runs  my  dream  ;  but  what  am  I  ? 
An  infant  crying  in  the  night, 
An  infant  crying  for  the  light, 
And  with  no  language  but  a  cry. ' ' 

— Alfred  Tennyson. 

The  spectacle  of  a  lost  soul  is  a  siglit  that 
moves  the  heart  of  God.  The  hope  of  a  race 
that  had  fallen  from  the  heights  resides  iu  the 
fact  of  divine  compassion.  God's  disappoint- 
ment over  sin  is  not  the  disappointment  of  either 
condemnation  or  despair,  but  rather  of  a  mighty 
and  measureless  pity. 

Christ,  who  is  the  revelation  of  God's  heart,  is 
represented  as  moved  with  compassion  on  the 
multitudes  "  because  they  fainted,  and  were 
scattered  abroad,  as  sheep  having  no  shepherd."  ' 

"  He  saw  them,"  as  the  text  of  one  of  the  old 
manuscripts  of  the  Gospels  would  seem  to  be  best 
rendered,  "  as  sheep  with  the  fleece  torn  off, 
bleeding,  and  unable  to  rise  up." 

This  was  the  picture  which  filled  the  Saviour's 
eyes,  and  this  was  the  tragedy  which  stirred 
His  great  heart  as  He  ^'went  about  the  cities 
and  villages,  teaching  in  their  synagogues,  and 

1  Matt.  ix.  36. 
54 


DIVINE  COMPASSION  55 

preaching  the  Gospel  of  the  kingdom,  and  heal- 
ing every  sickness  and  every  disease  among  the 
people." 

His  was  a  glorious  mission.  Never  came  there 
a  man  into  the  world  on  mission  so  heavenly,  so 
splendid  and  heroic,  so  sweet  and  tender  and, 
merciful,  so  unselfish  and  so  sublime.  He  came' 
to  bid  the  people  hope,  to  lift  the  veil  of  the 
kingdom,  and  reveal  to  their  enraptured  gaze  a 
sight  of  the  glory-throne.  He  came  comforting 
sorrow,  touching  human  aches  and  hurts  with 
His  tender  love,  and  changing  all  to  health  and, 
beauty  and  grace. 

But,  oh,  the  sight  that  met  His  eyes  as  He 
went  about  on  His  mission  of  mercy  !  He  had  a 
soul  great  enough  to  pierce  the  mask  behind 
which  sodden  human  misery  tries  to  hide  its 
awful  wretchedness,  and  see  the  terrible  plight 
of  sin-smitten,  lost,  and  fallen  human  nature 
dragging  through  its  slough  of  despond,  hope- 
less and  helpless. 

Jesus  saw  it  because  He  had  a  great  heart,  a 
mighty  love,  a  tender  pity,  an  infinite  compas- 
sion. It  is  this  compassion  which  has  made  Him 
the  Saviour  of  the  world.  It  has  lifted  Him  into 
magnificent  solitude.  It  leads  men  to  say  not 
only  that  He  spake  as  man  never  spake,  but 
that  He  loved  as  man  never  loves  and  that  He 
pitied  as  man  never  pities  ;  until  they  fall  before 
Him  exclaiming  with  Peter  :  ' '  Thou  art  the 
Christ,"  crying  with  Thomas:  "'My  Lord  and 
my  God!" 


56  TENDENCY 

What  kind  of  a  person  must  this  Jesus  have 
been,  who,  as  He  looked  upon  the  crowds  which 
surged  about  Him,  saw  them  "  as  sheep  with  the 
fleece  torn  off,  bleeding,  and  unable  to  rise  up  "  ? 
What  must  have  been  the  plans  and  purposes 
and  business  of  one  who  could  see  all  this  and 
then  could  feel  what  He  saw  ?  Such  an  one  is 
the  Saviour.     It  is  thus  that  He  comes  to  men. 

The  Fact  of  Cheist's  Compassion 
Christ  came  not  to  be  propitiated,  to  be  recon- 
ciled, to  make  people  do  things  to  win  His  favour 
and  earn  His  grace.     This  is  a  heathen  and  pagan 
conception  of  God.     The  gods  which  men  have 
made  for  themselves  have  all  been  fears,  and  their 
friendship  had  to  be  won  at  great  cost.     When 
Jesus  came,  there  was  nothing  to  fear.     He  did 
!■  not  come  to  be  propitiated  but  to  be  a  propitia- 
i  tion.     He  came  not  to  make  people  offer  sacri- 
fices to  Him,  but  to  offer  Himself  as  a  sacrifice. 

Christ  did  not  come  to  gaze  on  human  woe 

with  idle   curiosity  and  make  a  plaything  of 

man's  misery.     This  is  often  man's  attitude  to 

human  trouble.     It  is  a  problem  to  be  studied. 

The  woe  and  squalor  and  crime  of  the  world  wear 

f,  the  charm  of  tragedy  and  mystery.     The  world 

\  studies  poor  people  with  a  curious  interest  like 

that  of  the  man  in  the  laboratory  for  germs. 

There  was  no  look  of  idle  curiosity  in  the  eyes  of 

the  gentle  Christ  as  He  gazed  into  the  faces  of 

the  poor. 

He  did  not  come  merely  to  pity,  to  have  His 


DIVINE  COMPASSION  57 

emotions  stirred  and  to  weep  over  our  hardships. 
About  the  best  that  we  can  do  is  to  wring  our 
hands  and  say  that  we  are  sorry,  to  grow  maudlin 
and  sentimental  over  suflering.  They  t«ll  us  that 
people  have  nothing  to  eat  and  we  say  :  '*  What 
a  pity  ! ' '  and  we  send  them  something  to  eat. 
They  tell  us  that  people  have  no  coal  and  we  say  ; 
"  What  a  pity  !  "  and  we  send  them  some  fuel  to 
keep  the  fire  going.  They  tell  us  that  the  moun- 
taineers live  in  one-room  log  cabins  and  that 
many  of  them  cannot  write  their  names,  and  we 
say  :  "  What  a  pity  ! "  and  we  make  a  contribu- 
tion that  they  may  have  at  least  two  rooms  and 
be  able  to  write  their  names.  They  tell  us  that 
the  heathen  sit  on  the  floor  and  eat  with  sticks, 
while  we  sit  in  chairs  and  lift  our  food  to  our 
mouths  with  a  varied  assortment  of  instruments, 
and  we  say:  ''What  a  pity!"  and  we  send 
them  a  missionary. 

Pity  is  good  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  there  was 
more  than  pity  in  the  face  of  Him  who  came  to/, 
save  the  world.     There  was  compassion.  ^ 

This  compassion  is  Christ's  crown, — not  His 
power  to  heal,  not  His  wonderful  wisdom,  not 
even  His  personal  sanctity,  but  His  marvellous, 
unfailing,  godlike  compassion.  Christ  did  not 
come  to  save  the  world  with  civilization,  by  cur- 
ing poverty,  by  diffusing  knowledge.  Man  can 
do  all  this  for  himself.  He  needs  it,  but  he  does 
not  need  a  Saviour  to  do  it  for  him,  for  he  can 
do  it  for  himself.  Christ  came  to  save  the  world  l 
with  that  which  the  world  needs  most  and  of    'l 


58  TENDENCY 

which  it  has  least.     He  came  to  save  by  the  glory 
of  love. 

"  The  oight  has  a  thousand  eyes 
The  day  but  one  ; 
But  the  light  of  the  whole  world  dies, 
When  day  is  done. 

I"  The  mind  has  a  thousand  eyes 

The  heart  but  one  ; 

But  the  light  of  all  life  dies, 

When  love  is  done." 

"  Thy  gentleness  hath  made  me  great ! "  * 

The  Extent  of  Christ's  Compassion 
Woe  soon  wears  us  out.  We  cannot  sympa- 
thize with  very  many  people  in  trouble  before  we 
are  exhausted.  Every  one  who  has  ever  tried  to 
help  a  lame  soul  or  comfort  a  hurt  heart,  knows, 
from  experience,  what  Christ  meant  when  He 
said  :  "  Virtue  is  gone  out  of  Me."  It  takes  it 
out  of  us  to  try  to  help  people.  We  can  feel  up 
to  a  certain  point  and  then  we  find  our  sensibili- 
ties deadening.  We  can  sympathize  with  a  few 
in  trouble,  but  the  soul  soon  staggers  wearied 
and  worn  out. 

Christ's  compassion  is  unfailing  and  unwearied. 
It  is  for  all.  All  the  woes  and  sorrows  of  the 
world  break  on  His  great  heart.  All  the  burdens 
of  mankind  pile  themselves  upon  His  shoulders. 
All  the  griefs  and  disappointments  of  the  world 
cry  themselves  out  on  Jesus'  breast.  He  does 
not  try  to  spare  Himself.     He  invites  trouble. 

^  Ps.  xviii.  35. 


DIVINE  COMPASSION  59 

He  says  :  ' '  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labour 
aud  are  heavy  laden  and  I  will  give  you  rest. ' ' 
He  bids  all  to  come,  not  merely  His  disciples, 
not  merely  the  church  people,  not  merely  the 
people  of  a  certain  town  or  community  or  nation- 
ality, not  merely  the  people  of  a  certain  sect  or 
age  or  planet,  but  all,  in  all  worlds  aud  times  ;  all 
the  sorrowing  and  weary  and  disheartened  of 
God's  wide  universe  who  are  as  sheep  with  the 
fleece  torn  off,  bleeding,  and  unable  to  rise  up, 
Jesus  invites  to  come  unto  Him  and  find  rest. 

He  must  have  a  great  soul  or  He  could  not  pay 
out  strength  to  a  sympathy  like  that.  There  He 
stands,  bearing  all  the  weight  of  the  woe  of  the 
world,  carrying  all  the  penalty  of  the  sin  of  the 
world,  nursing  all  the  sorrows  of  the  troubled  of 
the  world,  wiping  away  all  tears  and  making 
every  care  His  own.  Yet  there  is  no  sign  of 
weariness  about  Him,  no  evidence  of  reluctance 
to  receive  us.  Marvellous  compassion  !  Only 
the  heart  of  a  God  is  big  enough  for  the  pulse- 
beat  of  a  sympathy  that  throbs  around  the  world. 

The  Discernment  of  Christ's  Compassion 
We  are  disposed  to  think  that  Christ  surveys 
the  troubles  of  the  world  very  much  as  we  gaze 
on  a  landscape  or  look  across  a  stretch  of  open 
sea.  Here  and  there,  where  the  swell  is  heaviest, 
one  may  detect  the  white  crest  of  an  occasional 
tide-rip,  but,  for  the  most  part,  it  is  the  dull 
monotony  of  unbroken  sameness  clean  to  the  dim 
line  which  banks  itself  against  the  far  horizon. 


60  TENDENCY 

Thus  we  think  of  Jesus  as  gazing  on  human  woe 
in  the  aggregate,  of  loving  the  world  without 
reference  to  individual  needs.  But  Christ  sees 
far  more  than  an  occasional  tide-rip  on  the  vast 
sea  of  human  trouble. 

One  Monday  morning  wearied  from  the  duties 
I A  of  the  Sabbath,  I  went  with  a  friend  for  a  walk  to 
.  Eagle  Rock,  on  the  top  of  the  Orange  Mountains. 
f   The  day  was  fair,  the  air  was  clear,  and  as  we 
stepped  out  on  the  plaza  at  the  summit,  a  mag- 
nificent panorama  of  splendid  cities  broke  on  our 
sight,  stretching  over  northern  New  Jersey  and 
across  the  North  River  into  Manhattan  and  Greater 
New  York.     Down  there,  in  our  field  of  vision, 
i         lay  the  communities  containing  the  homes  of 
seven  millions  of  peoj)le  ;  a  greater  number,  it  is 
J         said,  than  can  be  seen  from  any  other  point  in 
I         the  whole  world. 

I  As  I  looked  down  on  the  scene  at  our  feet,  I 

I  began  to  think  of  the  many  human  tragedies  that 

I  were  housed  there  under  our  eyes,  of  the  count- 

;  less  sorrows  that  were  there,  of  the  funeral  pro- 

cessions which,  even  then,  were  winding  through 
\  the  streets,  of  the  disappointed  men  and  women, 
\  of  the  heartless  grind  of  trade,  of  the  struggle 

1  with  poverty,  of  the  battle  for  bread,  of  the  con- 
\  flict  with  disease,  of  the  woe  and  weariness,  the 
shame  and  sin  and  suffering ;  and  I  spoke  to 
my  companion  about  it,  and  said:  "  Think  of 
all  that  breaking  on  the  heart  of  Christ.  He 
feels  all  that  any  man,  woman  or  child  down 
there  feels.     It  all  breaks  over  Him ;   and  all 


DIVINE  COMPASSION  61 

that  is  just  a  tiny  wavelet  in  the  vast  ocean  of 
human  trouble  that  overflows  His  great  heart." 
"Yes,"  said  my  friend,  "and  remember  that 
He  sees  and  feels  it  as  they  never  can,  for  He  sees 
it  in  the  light  of  eternity  and  He  feels  it  as  God." 
So  He  does.  He  sees  it  in  all  its  causes  and  re- 
sults, in  its  intricate  relations,  in  its  effects  on 
character,  influence,  and  destiny.  He  sees  it 
through  and  through  and  His  compassion  deep- 
ens and  intensifies  with  the  vision. 

He  sees  all  this  in  each  life,  however  lowly  and 
obscure.  We  are  not  lost  in  the  crowd.  Christ 
does  not  deal  with  humanity  in  herds  and  droves, 
but  as  distinct  personalities  and  according  to  the 
individual  need. 

It  seems  impossible.  With  all  these  countless 
crowds  thronging  Him,  how  can  He  find  me? 
In  the  long  sweep  of  the  ages,  how  can  He  get 
my  name  and  study  my  case  and  have  my  needs 
in  His  heart,  so  that  He  knows  the  cause  of  every 
fear,  the  meaning  of  every  sigh,  the  struggle 
with  every  temptation,  and  all  my  aspirations 
and  conflicts !  But  He  does.  He  says  He  does. 
He  says  that  He  knows  us  by  name. 

The  Saviour  has  comj)assiou  on  a  man  as  if  he 
were  the  only  person  in  the  world  ;  and  if  he  were 
the  only  person  in  all  the  world,  all  that  Christ 
has  done  for  the  whole  world  He  would  still  do 
for  that  one  man.     Amazing  compassion  ! 

The  Devotion  of  Christ's  Compassion 
Christ  proves  His  love.     His  is  not  a  cheap 


11 


62  TEXDEXCY 

sympathy.  It  has  cost  Him  much.  He  had 
much  to  give.  He  was  the  heir  of  eternity. 
All  that  He  had  to  give  He  freely  gave.  He 
humbled  Himself.  He  emptied  Himself  of  all 
He  had,  and  took  upon  Him  our  flesh.  And 
when  He  came  among  men,  He  took  not  the  lofty 
stations  of  honour  and  distinction,  but  the  lowly 
place  of  a  man  of  poverty  and  shame.  He  did  it 
that  He  might  come  near  enough  to  the  weakest 
and  worst  of  men  to  feel  their  need  and  assure 
them  of  His  pity.  To  crown  it  all,  He  laid  down 
His  life.  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this. 
He  entered  the  gloom  of  Calvary,  where  the 
loneliness  and  desertion  were  so  utter  that,  for 
the  moment,  He  seemed  to  have  lost  the  friend- 
ship of  His  Father,  and  there  was  forced  from 
His  dying  lips  that  cry  of  indescribable  pathos  : 
"  My  God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  Me  !  "  All 
this  He  did  without  our  knowing  that  He  was 
doing  it,  before  we  had  ever  done  anything  for 
Him,  before  we  even  had  being  save  in  the  divine 
purpose  ;  and  while  as  yet  there  was  no  guaran- 
tee on  our  part  that  we  would  ever  care  for  Him 
in  return. 

Among  the  charming  stories  written  by  ]Mr. 
S.  E.  Crockett  is  one  of  the  days  of  Henry  of 
Navarre,  the  greatest  of  the  French  kings.  One 
of  the  characters  in  "The  WTiite  Plume"  is  a 
Scotch-Spanish  girl,  Claire  Agnew,  who  because 
of  her  Calvinistic  faith  and  for  other  reasons,  had 
fallen  under  the  ban  of  the  Inquisition,  that  terri- 
ble and  infernal  institution  of  the  Spanish  Jesuits, 


DIVINE  COMPASSION  63 

A  band  of  rough  uien  had  beeu  sent  secretly  to 
compass  the  young  girl's  arrest  and  carry  her 
across  the  border.  Claire  Aguew  had  won  the 
love  of  a  noble  French  youth,  although  as  yet  no 
word  of  troth  had  passed  between  them.  This 
youth  determined  to  deliver  the  maid  from  peril. 
Without  her  knowledge  he  secured  her  mantle 
and  disguising  himself  in  it,  he  had  himself  ar- 
rested in  her  place  and  taken  into  Spain,  where 
his  identity  was  not  discovered  until  he  stood 
before  the  awful  and  hated  tribunal.  He  was 
tortured,  thrown  into  the  horror  chamber  of 
"the  Eyes,"  where  he  almost  lost  his  reason, 
and  at  last  was  condemned  to  service  as  a  galley- 
slave  where,  chained  to  the  weary  oar,  he  toiled 
through  the  long  hot  days  and  sleepless  nights, 
in  the  worst  of  bondage. 

In  the  meantime  the  girl  had  made  her  escape 
to  a  place  of  safety,  but  she  suspected  that  all 
was  not  well  with  her  lover,  and  by  close  ques- 
tioning she  at  last  forced  from  the  old  man  who 
was  protecting  her  the  true  story  of  her  lover's 
devotion.  Then  flashing  her  "wet,  splendid  eyes" 
on  the  old  man,  and  abandoning  herself  to  the 
rapture  of  the  thought  of  a  love  that  had  suffered 
so  much  for  her,  she  cried  :  "And  all  this  he  did 
for  me,  simply  because  he  loved  me,  and  he  did 
it  without  my  knowing  it,  and  he  did  it  knowing 
that  I  did  not  know  it !  " 

Give  that  story  infinite  measures  and  let  it 
have  an  eternal  accent,  and  we  shall  at  least 
begin  to  have  some  feint  suggestion  of  the  length 


64  TENDEIS^CY 

aud  breadth  and  height  and  depth  of  the  devotion 
of  the  Saviour's  compassion,  which  passeth  knowl- 
edge. 

The  Strength  of  Christ's  Compassion 

There  is  power  in  Christ's  compassion.  The 
troubles  of  the  world  drive  us  to  despair.  We 
can  do  so  little  to  help  people.  We  can  listen  to 
their  story  of  distress  and  pity  aud  sympathize 
and  wish  we  might  give  relief,  but  our  arm  is  so 
short.  We  are  ourselves  the  victims  of  the  same 
fearful  conspiracy  of  circumstances.  Nothing  so 
depresses  one  as  the  feeling  of  dull,  sickening, 
hopeless  helplessness  in  the  presence  of  human 
need. 

There  is  no  note  of  despair  in  Christ's  com- 
passion. As  the  tide  of  human  woe  breaks  over 
Him,  He  is  not  hopeless.  He  is  mighty  to  save. 
He  is  able  to  save  unto  the  uttermost.  He  can 
endure  gazing  down  into  the  black  depths  of 
B  trouble  and  listening  to  every  cry  which  shrieks 
I  out  its  petition  for  help,  for  He  knows  He  can 
change  it  all.  He  has  power  to  conquer  all  our 
adversaries.  He  throws  down  the  challenge  and 
enters  the  conflict  and  says:  "All  that  the 
Father  hath  given  Me  shall  come  to  Me." 

It  is  no  empty  boast.  Christ's  compassion 
does  not  stand  helplessly  by,  weeping  idle  tears 
and  wringing  its  hands  over  the  woe  of  the 
world. 

He  seizes  the  flaming  sword  and  assails  the  foe. 

"  The  Son  of  God  goes  forth  to  war." 


DIVINE  COMPASSION  65 

^^  Who  is  this  that  cometh  from  Edoiii,  with 
dyed  garments  from  Bozrali  ?    This  that  is  glori- 
ous iu  His  apparel,  travelling  in  the  greatness  of 
His  strength?"*    It  is  the  conquering  compas- 
sionate Christ  marching  against  our  foes,  iu  the 
might  and  majesty  of  the  red  religiou  of  the    , 
blood  shed  on  Calvary.     He  will  prosecute  the  i] 
war  until  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  have  be- 
come the  kingdoms  of  the  Lord,  for  the  promise 
of  Jehovah  is  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world    ; 
''shall  see  of  the  travail  of  His  soul  and  be 
satisfied." 

The  Patience  and  Tenderness  of  Christ's 
Compassion 

Great  is  the  patience  and  gentle  the  tender- 
ness of  Christ's  compassion. 

He  comes  with  all  His  pity  and  power  to  help 
us,  and  how  often  it  is  that  we  do  not  care  !  He 
pleads  and  we  treat  His  petition  with  unconcern. 
The  compassion  of  Christ  does  not  grow  bitter 
and  resentful.  With  a  patience  that  is  infinite 
He  bears  with  ingratitude  and  indifference. 
Nothing  can  chill  His  love  nor  tire  His  devotion. 

It  is  said  that  there  came  a  time  iu  the  life  of 
Dr.  George  Matheson,  the  famous  blind  preacher 
of  Scotland,  when  the  physician  had  to  break  to 
him  the  news  that  he  was  going  blind.  Placing 
his  hands  on  the  preacher's  shoulders  and  look- 
ing him  in  the  eyes,  he  said  :  "If  there  is  any 
face  you  want  to  see  again,  go  and  look  at  it 

'  Isa.  Ixiii.  1. 


h 


66  TENDENCY 

quickly.     Brace  up  and  be  a  man.     Hold  your- 
self together,  for  your  sight  is  nearly  gone  and 
'you  will  never  get  it  again."     Then  Matheson 
;i  went  to  his  study  and  sat  down  and  wrote  to  the 
i  woman  whose  face  he  wanted  to  see  more  than 
I  any  face  in  the  world  and  told  her  all,  and  she 
[  threw  him  off  and  cut  him  adrift.     It  was  in  that 
hour  of  bitter  disappointment,  in  the  agony  of 
that  Gethsemane  of  his  life  that  Matheson  wrote  : 

' '  Oh,  love  that  wilt  not  let  me  go, 
I  rest  my  weary  soul  on  thee." 

There  is  a  love  that  is  eternal  and  a  compassion 
that  not  only  misfortune  but  all  coldness  and  in- 
difference cannot  kill. 

Then,  what  tenderness  !  If  one  would  know 
it,  let  him  read  the  parable  of  the  lost  sheep  or 
the  parable  of  the  lost  son.  There  lies  the  soul 
like  a  sheep,  with  the  fleece  torn  off,  bleeding, 
and  unable  to  rise  up.  We  have  brought  it  on 
ourselves  by  our  wilfulness,  our  waywardness, 
our  stupid,  stubborn  disobedience.  But  there  is 
no  harshness  with  the  Good  Shepherd  as  He 
comes,  no  stern  rebukes,  no  chidings,  no  resent- 
ment ;  but  in  His  eyes  a  look  of  wondrous  love 
and  in  His  voice  the  music  of  the  invisible  choir 
and  in  His  strong  arms  more  than  a  mother's 
gentleness,  as  He  lifts  a  weary  soul  and  lays  it 
on  His  heart  and  carries  it  to  His  Father's  house. 

This  is  the  way  the  Saviour  comes  to  fallen 
man.  And  thus  it  is  that  He  breaks  the  sirens' 
spell. 


zh 


V 
A  GREAT  LOVE 

"  The  supreme  happiness  of  life  is  the  conviction  of  be- 
ing loved  for  yourself,  or  more  correctly,  being  loved  in 
spite  of  yourself. ' ' —  Victor  Hugo. 

"  My  God  knows  best !     Then  tears  may  fall : 
In  His  great  heart  I'll  find  my  rest ; 
For  He  my  God  is  over  all, 

And  He  is  love  and  He  knows  best." 

— Caleb  D.  Bradlee. 

The  hope  of  man  is  the  love  of  God.     Man  is 
to  recover  all  that  he  has  lost  bj'  sin  aud  acquire 
vastly  more  because  the  God  who  is  interested  in  . . 
him  loves  him  with  au  everlasting  love. 

It  is  not  on  the  fact  that  God  is  wise  and 
strong  and  resourceful  so  much  as  on  the  fact 
that  God  is  love  that  man  can  build  an  enduring 
hope. 

It  is  a  daring  thing  to  attempt  even  the  dis- 
cussion of  so  great  a  theme  as  the  love  of  God. 
One  can  hope  to  do  little  more  than  direct  medita- 
tion upon  it,  and  gaze  through  certain  words  of 
Scripture,  as  through  open  windows  that  look  out 
on  an  enchanting  landscape. 

As  one  rides  through  the  matchless  scenery  of 
the  Canadian  Eockies  on  a  railroad  train,  and 
gazes,    from    the    car    window,    out    upon    the 
67 


68  TENDENCY 

majestic,  glistening,  snow-capped  peaks  which 
tower  about  and  far  above  him,  and  then  down 
into  the  wild  gorges  far  below,  where  gleaming 
rivers,  born  of  glaciers,  rush  in  mad,  defiant  haste 
over  huge  boulders  and  through  narrow  passes 
to  the  open  country  and  later  to  the  sea,  he  finds 
himself  unable  to  put  sight  into  speech.  The 
spectacle  is  too  sublime  for  words.  There  is, 
however,  one  thing  he  can  do.  He  can  turn  to  a 
fellow  traveller  and  say,  ' '  Look  !  Look  at  that ! 
Just  look  !" 

So  as  we  consider  God's  great  love  ;  as  we  gaze 
up  towards  its  sublime  heights  and  out  on  its 
limitless  stretches  and  down  into  the  abysmal 
depths  from  which  it  lifts  the  soul ;  as  we  think 
of  the  wonder  of  its  plan  and  the  marvels  of  its 
grace  ;  as  we  contemplate  its  tenderness  and  com- 
passion, its  sacrificial  atonement  and  holy  en- 
treaties and  glorious  keeping  power,  we  feel  like 
exclaiming  :  Oh,  to  ' '  apprehend  with  all  saints 
what  is  the  breadth  and  length  and  height  and 
depth  ;  and  to  know  the  love  of  Christ,  which 
passeth  knowledge."^  Words  are  too  shallow 
for  such  a  theme.  God's  love  is  too  vast  to  be 
put  into  words.  There  is,  however,  one  thiug 
that  we  can  do.  We  can  turn  to  our  fellow 
travellers  along  the  road  of  life  and  say  :  "  Look  ! 
-Just  look  !  For  His  great  love  wherewith  He 
floved  us  ! " 

Even  the  inspired  writers  of  sacred  Scripture 
seem  to  have  found  all  their  vocabularies  running 
'  Eph.  iii.  18. 


A  GREAT  LOVE  69 

out  aud  falling  short  before  the  love  of  God. 
Tbey  do  not  atteuii)t  to  describe  it  so  much  as  to 
poiut  towards  it.  Through  the  open  window 
they  bid  us  gaze  out  and  along  shining  and  end- 
less aud  eternal  vistas.  This  is  what  John  was 
doing  when  he  wrote,  "  God  so  loved  the  world." 
He  could  not  measure  the  love  of  God.  No 
plummet  can  sound  its  depths,  no  wing  can  soar  \ 
to  its  heights,  no  line  can  measure  its  circumfer- 
euce,  no  mathematics  can  compute  its  reaches,  no 
imagination  can  conceive  its  fullness,  and  so 
John  simply  wrote,  "God  so  loved  the  world." 
God' s  love  dwarfs  all  standards,  tosses  iiside  all 
metaphors,  runs  away  from  all  comparisons.  It 
was  this  feeling  that  overwhelmed  Paul  when 
thinking  of  God's  love,  he  seemed  to  throw  all 
adjectives  into  one  inspired  exclamation,  "For 
His  great  love  wherewith  He  loved  us  !  "  ^ 

A  Present  Comfort  and  an  Everlasting 
Hope 

There  is  a  mighty  chasm  between  the  divine 
and  the  human,  between  God  and  man.  In  the 
opening  verses  of  this  second  chapter  of  Ephe- 
sians,  the  writer  describes  the  human.  It  is  a 
picture  of  corruption  and  death.  Fallen  human 
nature  is  described  as  rotting  in  vice.  Man  has 
his  conversation  in  the  lusts  of  the  flesh.  He  is 
by  nature  a  child  of  wrath.  He  is  under  the  do- 
minion of  the  prince  of  evil.  God,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  holy.     His  is  the  white  throne.     In  His 

>  Eph.  ii.  4. 


70  TENDENCY 

presence  the  creatures  rest  not,  day  or  night, 
crying,  "Holy,  holy,  holy!  Lord  God  Al- 
mighty !  "  How  can  there  ever  be  anything  but 
an  everlasting  difference  and  an  eternal  distance 
between  God  and  man  ?  God  would  seem  to  be 
our  fear,  our  despair,  our  awful  condemnation, 
until  with  the  voices  in  the  Apocalypse,  we  cry 
to  the  mountains  and  rocks,  ' '  Fall  on  us  and 
hide  us  from  the  face  of  Him  that  sitteth  on  the 
throne."  ^ 

Since  this  chasm  exists,  how  can  God  enter  into 
sympathy  with  man  ?    How  can  He  ever  under- 
stand how  we  feel  and  what  we  need  ?    Yet  it  is 
.  just  this  that  we  most  crave.     We  long  for  some 
I  one  who  understands  us,   who  has  walked  our 
I  way  and  lived  our  life  and  staggered  under  our 
burden ;   who  has   faced    our    temptations   and 
j    fought  our  battles  and  drunk  from  our  cup  and 
'  who  has  been  burned  by  the  flames  which  scorch 
and  sting  us.     Where  shall  we  find  him  ? 

We  are  told  that  Christ  is  such  a  friend.  He 
•  was  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we  are,  yet 
without  sin.  He  lived  a  human  life.  He  suf- 
fered on  the  cross  and  died  to  reconcile  us  to 
God.  Yet  somehow  we  feel  that  Christ's  life  is 
not  quite  like  ours.  He  had  a  divine  as  well  as  a 
human  nature,  and  while  He  may  not  have  used 
His  divine  nature  to  combat  temptation  and  rout 
Satan,  still  He  had  this  divine  nature.  He  was 
God  as  well  as  man.  Then  while  He  suffered  for 
sin,  He  never  sinned. .  He  was  tempted,  yet 
1  Rev.  vi.  16. 


A  GREAT  LOVE  71 

without  sin.  There  is  the  fatal  difference.  He 
knows  transgression,  not  as  an  experience,  but 
only  as  a  theory.  He  does  not  know  actual  sin, 
and  the  story  of  our  life  is  the  record  of  actual 
transgression. 

Hence  the  puzzle  which  baffles  faith  is  :  How 
can  Christ  understand  and  sympathize  with  man 
when  He  has  never  sinned?  The  monumental 
pile  of  righteousness  that  j^illars  the  church  and 
maintains  social  respectability  may  tell  me  what 
I  ought  to  be.  He  may  quote  all  the  maxims 
and  mottoes  of  virtue,  and  repeat  the  command- 
ments and  denounce  the  "exceeding  sinfulness 
of  sin  "  and  thank  God  that  he  "is  not  as  other 
men  are,"  but  what  does  he  know  about  my 
conflict  ?  His  ravings  about  virtue  do  not  help 
me  ;  they  depress  and  discourage  and  enrage  me. 

"  'Tis  the  weakness  in  strength  that  I  cry  for  ! 
My  flesh  that  I  seek  in  the  Godhead  !  " 

I  seek  a  Saviour  who  knows  my  road,  not  from 
His  study  of  geography,  but  because  He  has 
travelled  it.  How  can  Christ  do  this  when  He 
has  never  sinned  ? 

He  does  it  by  the  power  of  love.  This  is  the 
miracle  love  works.  It  enables  us  to  enter  fully 
into  all  the  struggles  and  aspirations  of  those  we 
love.  It  so  thoroughly  puts  our  life  into  accord 
with  another's  that  we  are  not  only  able  to  sym- 
pathize with  what  he  suffers  and  enjoys,  but 
makes  it  impossible  not  to  do  so.  Love  cannot 
escape  this  vicarious  participation. 


1 


72  TENDENCY 

We  are  familiar  with  all  this  in  the  experience 

of  human  love.     I  have  talked  with  a  mother 

whose  son  had  been  thrown  into  jail  charged  with 

Jl    a  certain  crime.     The  mother  had  suffered  far 

I    more  than  the  sou.     The  thing  had  almost  killed 

\  her.     Yet  she  had  committed  no  crime.     It  was 

love  that  bridged  the  chasm  between  her  and  the 

son  in  his  prison  cell. 

This  is  what  God's  great  love  does.  God  is 
holy.  He  has  never  sinned.  He  cannot  look 
upon  sin  with  the  least  degree  of  allowance,  but 
He  can  sympathize  with  sinners.  With  all  the 
vicarious  passion  of  undying  love,  He  enters  into 
our  experience,  shares  our  woe  and  sorrow,  our 
despair  and  remorse,  and  tastes  our  sin.  Just 
;  as  one  suffers  for  and  with  his  child  in  trouble, 
M  so  does  God  with  His  children.  Thus  we  find 
ourselves  in  the  Godhead.  Thus  a  great  love 
bridges  the  chasm  between  God's  holiness  and 
man's  guilt.  Love  spreads  its  white  wings  and 
flies  across  the  abyss.  That  flight  neither  tires 
nor  frightens  love.  Indeed  love  efiaces  the 
chasm.  ''For  scarcely  for  a  righteous  man  will 
one  die  ;  for  peradventure  for  the  good  man  some 
would  even  dare  to  die.  But  God  commendeth 
His  love  towards  us,  in  that  while  we  were  yet 
sinners,  Christ  died  for  us."  ^ 

Thus  God's  love  becomes  our  present  comfort 
and  our  everlasting  hope.  The  divinity  of  God 
is  not  His  power,  nor  His  knowledge,  nor  His 
wisdom,   but    His    love.     God    has  power  and 

'  Rom.  V.  7,  8. 


A  GEEAT  LOVE  73 

knowledge  and  wisdom,  but  God  is  love.  God  j 
is  love  and  "could  we  love  as  God  loves,"  said  I 
Sidney  Lanier,  "we  should  be  as  God  is."  (. 
Blessed  be  God  for  His  great  love  wherewith  He )  I 
loved  us  ! 

Having  uttered  this  inspired  exclamation,  Paul 
follows  it  with  three  statements  which  we  may 
regard  as  three  windows  through  which  to  gaze 
out  upon  God's  great  love. 

The  Window  of  Quickening 
The  first  we  may  call  "  the  window  of  quicken- 
ing."    It  is  described  in  the  verse  which  says  : 
"  Even  when  we  were  dead  in  sins,  hath  quick- 
ened us  together  with  Christ." 

We  are  looking  out  upon  God  raising  a  dead 
soul  to  life.  The  sinner  is  gasping  in  the  throes 
of  final  dissolution.  The  stars  of  hope  are  all 
dead  in  the  sky  and  despair  is  about  to  spread  its 
black  mantle,  when  suddenly  a  glow  gleams  in 
the  darkness  and  love  is  seen  hovering  over  the 
face  of  the  dead.  It  kisses  the  pallid  brow  and 
in  the  agony  of  tasting  death,  it  imparts  life  to 
the  dead,  until  through  all  the  arteries  and  veins 
of  being  there  rushes  the  warm,  strong,  tumul-v 
tuous  tide  of  divine,  transforming  life.  v 

Eecently  in  New  York  City  a  baby's  life  was 
saved  through  the  transfusion  of  blood  from  the 
body  of  the  father  into  that  of  his  child.  The 
operation  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  its  \ 
kind  and  has  excited  the  keen  interest  of  many 
outside  the  medical  profession.     Because  of  the 


74  TEKDENCY 

delicate  and  dangerous  character  of  the  operation, 
it  was  impossible  to  use  either  anesthetics  or  a 
connecting  tube  uniting  the  body  of  father  and 
child.     When  the  oi^eration  began  the  child  was 
in  a  dying  condition,  and  before  the  operation 
was  finished,  to  ordinary  appearances,   it  was 
dead.      The  father's  arm  was  opened  from  the 
wrist  to  the  elbow  and  a  vein  lifted  out.     An 
opening  was  then  made  in  the  child's  leg  and  the 
blood-vessels  of  parent  and  offspring  stitched  to- 
gether.    An  attending  surgeon  said  to  the  father, 
"Does  it  hurt?"     With  a  face  livid  with  pain 
he  said,  "  It  hurts  like  hell,  but  if  I  can  save  the 
baby,   what  of   it?"      At  last  everything  was 
ready  for  the  red  tide  from  the  father's  heart  to 
I    enter  the    apparently   lifeless  little  body  lying 
I  ,iicross  his  slashed  arm  ;  and  the  instant  the  blood 
Ai  rushed  into  the  child's  body  it  revived.     What 
y  had  been  practically  a  dead  body  was  quickened. 
On  a  divine  scale  this  is  the  story  of  Calvary. 
Christ's  death  on  the  cross  was  the  transfusion  of 
God's  life  into  the  dead  soul.     There  on  the  tree 
I  God  opened  His  veins  that  the  blood  might  save 
us.     The  life  is  in  the  blood.     Christ  came  that 
I  we  might  have  life.     He  has  quickened  us  at  tre- 
'  mendous  cost.     There  is  no  suffering  like  that 

|whi(;h  pressed  from  Him  the  bloody  sweat  in  the 
garden.  He  suffered  death  itself  and  the  pains 
of  hell  forever,  and  He  did  it  to  reveal  God's 
great  love. 

Some  day,  that  baby  will  be  old  enough  to  hear 
||  and  understand  the  story  of  how  the  father  opened 


A  GREAT  LOVE  76 

his  veins  to  save  his  child.  With  that  knowl-  lA 
edge,  there  will  come  a  stronger,  deeper,  truer 
love  for  the  father.  The  child  will  say  :  "  I  ■ 
must  not  disappoint  my  father.  I  must  not  \ 
grieve  him.  With  a  great  love  he  gave  me  my  j 
life,  and  I  must  try  to  live  so  that  he  will  never  | 
regret  the  hour  he  opened  his  heart  and  shed  his 
blood  to  give  me  life." 

Man  must  not  disappoint  God.  He  has  quick- 
ened him.  We  have  heard  the  story  of  the  suf- 
fering that  saves  us.  We  know  how  one  was 
wounded  for  us  and  how  His  precious  blood  was 
shed  that  we  might  live. 

"  And  we  rauat  love  Him  too, 
And  trust  in  His  redeeming  blood 
And  try  His  works  to  do. ' ' 

The  Window  of  Comradeship 
The  second  window  we  may  call,  ' '  the  window 
of  comradeship."  It  is  described  in  the  verse 
which  says  :  "  And  hath  raised  us  up  together 
in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus."  Haviug 
quickened  us,  God  makes  us  His  companions. 

It  is  not  easy  to  gain  admittance  to  a  personal 
acquaintance  with  the  choice  spirits  of  the  world. 
We  may  read  the  books  written  by  people  of 
genius.  We  may  be  familiar  with  their  portraits 
and  places  of  residence  ;  but  when  we  seek  to 
know  them,  we  find  the  door  of  introduction  dif- 
ficult to  enter.  A  gentleman  came  one  day,  the 
purpose  of  whose  visit  was  to  secure  a  personal 
interview  with  a  certain  lady  of  large  wealth  and 


76  TENDENCY 

generous  impulses.  He  had  travelled  hundreds 
of  miles  and  carried  letters  of  recommendation 
from  many  people  of  a  certain  kind  of  promi- 
nence, and  spent  a  fortnight  in  New  York  City 
diligently  seeking  some  kind  of  influence  that 
would  helj)  him  to  the  interview  he  coveted,  but 
all  in  vain.  I  had  to  send  him  away  as  i^oor  as 
he  came.  Access  into  the  presence  of  the  dis- 
tinguished of  earth  is  granted  only  to  the  privi- 
leged few.  But  here  we  are  told  that  admission 
is  granted  to  companionship  with  the  choicest 
V  spirit  of  all  times  and  worlds.  One  is  allowed 
\  to  live  on  terms  of  intimate  and  daily  compan- 
ionship with  God  Himself.  God  is  not  only  not 
a  fear  ;  He  would  be  a  man's  closest  and  best 
friend.  This  He  offers  to  the  man  who  has  fallen 
from  the  heights,  who,  having  yielded  to  the 
sirens'  song  of  temptation,  has  lost  all ;  and  He 
offers  it  without  conditions. 

Three  words  are  used  to  describe  this  comrade- 
ship with  God.  The  first  is  ''raised."  God's 
great  love  exalts.  One  must  be  fitted  to  move  in 
that  high  society  of  divine  communion.  Love 
does  it.  Love  is  the  refining  and  civilizing  in- 
fluence of  the  world.  Under  its  spell  rudeness 
and  crudeness  and  coarseness  of  every  kind  dis- 
appear, and  the  spirit,  refined  and  cultivated,  is 
in  a  measure  fitted  to  associate  with  God. 

The  second  word  is  ''  sit."  It  is  a  picture  of 
equality  and  repose.  We  are  not  kept  standing 
in  His  presence,  as  though  we  were  quickly  to 
make  known  our  request  and  then  to  be  dismissed 


A  GEEAT  LOVE  77 

from  the  divine  presence.  God's  love  raises  us 
to  sit  with  Him.  It  is  a  happy  way  of  describ- 
ing privileges  that  are  permanent  and  secure. 

The  third  word  is  "heavenly  places."  Love 
raises  us  to  sit  with  Him  "in  heavenly  places," 
in  experiences  which  have  something  of  heaven 
in  them.  They  are  places  with  the  sky  and 
climate,  the  scenery  and  music  and  associations 
of  God's  own  country.  They  are  seats  of  joy  and 
peace  and  satisfaction. 

This  is  the  second  sight  that  greets  the  eye  of 
the  soul  that  looks  out  on  God's  great  love. 
This  is  love's  plan  for  life.  When  the  dead  soul 
is  quickened,  it  is  raised  to  something  more  than 
bare  existence.  God  does  not  leave  man  to  go 
starved  and  beggared  through  life.  He  exalts 
him  to  royal  privileges  and  blessed  fellowship. 
How  can  the  soul  be  unhappy  in  such  a  state  as 
this?  How  can  one  ever  get  his  consent  to  go 
back  to  lust  and  animalism,  after  having  tasted 
the  felicity  of  communion  with  God  ?  This  is  the 
Gospel  for  daily  life.  It  enables  the  clerk  at  the 
counter,  the  toiler  in  the  mills,  the  banker  at  his 
desk,  the  machinist,  the  lawyer,  the  housewife, 
the  teacher  to  feel  that  as  they  work  they  are 
sitting  together  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ 
Jesus.  Then  drudgery  is  transfigured  and  noth- 
ing is  any  longer  hard. 

The  Window  of  the  Ages 
The  third  window  may  be  called  "the  window 
of  the  ages."     It  is  described  in  the  verse  which 


78  TENDENCY 

says  :  ' '  That  in  the  ages  to  come,  He  might 
show  the  exceeding  riches  of  His  grace  iu  His 
kindness  towards  us  through  Christ  Jesus. ' ' 

What  can  one  do  with  a  verse  like  this  ?  For 
finite  intelligence  to  attempt  the  discussion  of  the 
thought  it  contains  is  like  handling  the  ocean 
with  a  spoon  or  weighing  ai)lauet  in  apothecary's 
scales.  As  one  looks  out  through  this  verse,  he 
gazes  on  a  vista  that  is  endless.  ' '  That  iu  the 
ages  to  come  !  "  The  prospect  towers  like  some 
dizzy  peak  whose  summit  is  lost  in  the  clouds. 
We  cannot  see  the  top.  We  can  only  gaze  on 
the  snow-clad  slopes  of  the  lower  ranges  which 
bank  themselves  against  the  sky-line.  God's 
love  is  not  an  incident  of  His  career ;  it  is  His 
career.  Comradeship  is  not  the  whole  program, 
it  is  but  the  first  number,  God  continues  to 
exalt  those  whom  He  loves  throughout  all 
eternity.  Age  after  age  there  will  appear  some 
new  unfolding  of  His  wondrous  plan.  He  will 
be  forever  manifesting  the  exceeding  riches  of 
His  grace  in  His  kindness  towards  us  through 
Christ  Jesus.  God's  plan  goes  on  widening  and 
heightening  and  brightening  forever  and  forever 
for  those  He  loves. 

It  has  not  yet  dawned  upon  us  what  it  means 
to  be  saved.  We  have  glimpses  of  what  it  means, 
but  that  is  all.  We  see  a  drunkard  reformed,  a 
libertine  cleansed,  a  criminal  changed,  a  sinner 
redeemed  and  we  say:  "That  is  salvation." 
It  is  only  the  beginning  of  salvation.  The  river 
has  not  run  its  course  with  the  first  gush  of 


A  GREAT  LOVE  79 

crystal  on  the  earth's  surface.  The  spring  is  but 
the  river's  start.  It  will  go  ou  deepening,  widen- 
ing, growing  in  volume  and  power,  until  it  loses  | ', 
itself  in  the  mighty  deep.  Wo  is  it  with  salva- 
tion.    Salvation  is  an  eternal  river  of  joy. 

God  has  not  finished.  He  has  not  published 
the  full  program.  He  has  merely  announced 
the  introduction.  God's  love  has  resources  of 
which  man  has  never  dreamed.  He  has  lifled 
the  veil  and  shown  the  glory  of  Calvary.  He 
has  told  the  story  of  the  Incarnation,  the  Atone- 
ment, the  Eesurrection,  and  the  Ascension.  He 
has  made  us  partakers  of  all  this  ;  but  God's  house 
is  more  than  a  vestibule.  The  great  temple  of 
divine  mysteries  is  ahead.  He  has  taken  us  into 
the  vestibule,  that  in  the  ages  to  come,  He  might 
show  the  exceediug  riches  of  His  grace  in  His 
kindness  towards  us  through  Christ  Jesus. 

These  are  the  three  windows  of  vision ;  the 
window  of  quickening,  the  window  of  comrade- 
ship, and  the  window  of  the  ages.  These  are  thai 
three  inspired  glimpses  given  of  God's  great  love.  • 
No  wonder  that  in  the  presence  of  such  a  sight  ai 
man  would  break  forth  into  an  ecstasy  of  excla-i 
mation  and  cry  :  ' '  For  His  great  love  where- 
with He  loved  us  !  " 

God's  love  is  great.  It  is  deeper  than  all  seas, 
higher  than  all  heavens,  brighter  than  all  suns, 
more  enduring  than  all  ages.  All  fires  cannot 
consume  it,  all  hate  cannot  baftle  it,  all  darkness 
cannot  obscure  it.  It  is  mightier  than  death, 
potent  as  truth,  and  glorious  as  God  Himself.        \ 


\ 


80  TENDENCY 

There  may  be  dark  problems  and  great  sor- 
rows, but  since  God  loves  us,  all  things  work  to- 
gether for  good.  The  fact  that  God  is  with  us 
and  the  thought  that  He  loves  us  slays  fear. 
When  I  was  a  child,  like  most  children,  I  was 
afraid  to  be  alone  in  the  dark.  When  my  mother 
put  me  to  bed  at  night,  as  she  tucked  in  the 
covers  and  kissed  me  "Good-night,"  I  remem- 
ber how  she  used  to  say  :  ''  God  is  in  the  room 
and  nothing  can  hurt  you."  The  thought  that 
God  was  there  disarmed  my  fear.  If  we  could 
only  carry  childhood's  simple  faith  in  the  near- 
ness and  love  of  God  through  all  the  years,  life 
would  be  different.  With  God's  great  love  shin- 
ing around,  why  be  afraid?  With  that  love 
watching  over  the  life,  why  be  unhappy  1  With 
that  love  guaranteeing  the  future,  why  be  worried 
over  to-day  or  anxious  about  to-morrow  ? 

"  Where  there  is  faith,  there  is  love ; 
Where  there  is  love,  there  is  peace; 
Where  there  is  peace,  there  is  God  ; 
Where  there  is  God,  there  is  uo  need." 


VI 

GOD'S  ONCE  MORE 

"It  is  not  to  taste  sweet  things,  but  to  do  true  and  noble 
things,  and  vindicate  himself  under  God's  heaven  aa  a  God-    >/■ 
made  man,  that  the  poorest  son  of  Adam  dimly  longs.    Show     I 
him  the   way  of  doing  that,  and  the  dullest  day-dnidge 
kindles  into  a  hero." — Carlyle. 

God's  great  love  wins  and  the  life  that  was 
estranged  from  its  maker  is  once  more  in  His 
keeping.     The  prodigal  returns  to  his  Father's 
house.     This  is  the  miracle  of  Calvary.     Man, 
who  was  made  for  God,  but  had  been  enticed  and 
estranged  by  sin,  and  lured  by  the  siren  of  temp- 
tation, is  God's  once  more.     He  begins  to  recog-  ' 
nize  that  he  does  not  belong  to  himself,  that  he 
does  not  exist  for  his  own  enjoyment,  that  he  was;  , 
created  for  some  mission  outside  of  his  own  be- 1 1 
ing,  and  that  as  he  fulfils  this  mission,  he  finds  j  j 
himself.     This  fact  justifies  man's  existence,  and  > 
it  is  the  only  fact  that  does. 

The  only  reason  anything  in  this  or  any  world 
has  a  right  to  exist  is  that  it  is  not  its  own.     The 
first  question  asked  about  anything  is,  ''  What  is  i| 
it  for?"     If  it  is  not  for  something  it  is  of  no    , 
use  ;  and  if  it  is  of  no  use,  it  has  no  right  to  be.     , 
A  thing  justifies  its  existence  by  its  use,  its  mis-    I 
sion. 

81 


82  TENDENCY 

The  flowers  which  bloom  in  the  spring  are  not 
their  own  ;  they  exist  to  beautify  the  world.  The 
rivers  which  run  to  the  sea  are  not  their  own ; 
they  serve  every  living  thing  along  their  banks. 
The  stars  which  shine  in  the  sky  are  not  their 
own  ;  they  obey  the  purposes  of  Him  who  made 
them.  All  creatures,  from  the  microscopic  life 
of  the  world,  through  every  species  and  genus 
and  family  and  class  and  race  and  time,  toil  for 
the  common  good.  They  must  serve  some  pur- 
pose outside  their  own  being.  Everything  that 
is,  must  set  its  face  towards  some  task  or  duty  or 
master  and  make  obeisance  and  say,  *'I  am  not 
my  own."     If  it  fails,  it  forfeits  its  right  to  be. 

There  is  a  sense  in  which  even  God  is  not  His 
own.  He  does  not  exist  for  Himself.  If  He  did, 
He  would  never  have  aroused  His  powers  and 
unlocked  His  mighty  energies  and  released  His 
f  eternal  purpose  and  built  around  His  infinite 
personality  the  limitless  universe  through  which 
He  ranges  and  over  which  He  rules.  Even  the 
Deity  must  exist  for  something.  God  must  j  ustify 
His  right  to  be.  He  must  have  a  mission.  There 
is  no  higher  role  for  even  godhood  than  that  of  a 
servant.  God  is  not  His  own.  He  is  for  His 
world.  The  tiniest  blade  of  grass  may  look  up 
into  His  face  and  say:  "Thou  art  my  God." 
Every  dewdi-op  and  snow- crystal  and  beam  of 
sunshine  may  say:  "God  is  mine."  Every 
sighing  wind  and  singing  bird  as  well  as  the 
angels  which  throng  the  throne  and  the  saints 
which  pray  from  beneath  the  altar  may  speak 


GOD'S  ONCE  MOEE  83 

God's  name  with  loving  reverence  and  say : 
*'  He  is  my  God  too." 

Surely  man  can  be  no  exception  to  this  univer- 
sal law.  His  right  to  be  rests  on  the  fact  that  he 
is  not  his  own.  He  can  justify  his  existence  only 
on  the  ground  that  he  serves  some  purpose  out- 
side his  own  being.  Like  the  God  in  whose 
image  he  was  made,  he  is  to  be  a  servant.  His 
powers  are  to  be  aroused  and  his  energies  un- 
locked and  his  faculties  employed  for  the  sake  of 
the  world  that  has  been  built  around  him.  If  he 
is  of  no  use,  he  has  no  right  to  be.  When  a  man 
discovers  this,  he  begins  to  throw  off  the  handi- 
cap of  all  cross  currents  and  counter  tendencies 
and  move  towards  the  true  goal  of  being.  He 
is  once  more  a  being  with  a  divine  tendency. 
The  sinister  influence  of  sin  may  still  disturb, 
but  it  no  longer  dominates  him. 

Man's  master  must  be  greater  than  himself. 
If  he  is  not  his  owd,  he  is  owned.  If  he  is 
owned,  he  has  an  owner.  His  owner  is  neces- 
sarily greater  than  what  he  owns.  It  is  not 
seemly  for  a  lion  to  be  in  bondage  to  a  mouse. 
It  is  not  fitting  that  man  should  be  the  slave  of 
some  creature  lower  down  in  the  scale  of  being 
than  himself.  This  does  not  mean  that  he  is  not 
to  do  humble  tasks  and  serve  little  people,  but 
he  is  to  serve  the  world  under  him  only  as  tlie 
servant  of  the  Lord  above  him.  Just  as  the  sun 
pours  down  its  radiance  alike  on  the  evil  and  on 
the  good,  and  lights  the  track  of  an  insect  crawl- 
ing on  a  leaf  as  brilliantly  as  the  triumphal  march 


84  TENDENCY 

of  kings  and  world-conquerors,  and  does  it,  not 
because  insects  and  kings  own  the  sun  and  give 
to  it  its  orders,  but  because  the  sun's  Creator  has 
so  decreed  ;  so  man,  while  occupied  in  lowly  tasks 
and  serving  humble  duties,  must  look  above  and 
beyond  for  his  master. 

Where  does  he  find  him  ?  As  he  gazes  out  and 
along  the  horizon  of  existence  for  a  being  in 
whose  employ  he  may  find  an  ample  justification 
of  his  own  existence,  what  face  appears  ?  There 
is  but  one,  for  there  is  but  one  figure  that  towers 
higher  than  man  along  the  line  of  being.  It  is 
the  face  of  God.  Man  looms  next  to  God  in  the 
scale  of  being.  He  is  the  highest  up  towards 
God  of  all  His  creatures.  When  God  says  to 
such  a  creature  as  man  :  ' '  You  are  not  your 
own,"  there  is  but  one  thing  for  man  to  conclude. 
It  is  :     ''  Then  I  am  Thine,  O  God." 

If  this  be  true,  can  a  man  who  repudiates  his 
obligations  to  God  justify  his  own  existence? 
Can  he  give  any  adequate  reason  for  his  right  to 
be  a  man?  He  may  justify  his  existence  as  an 
inferior  animal,  but  can  he  defend  his  right  to 
existence  as  a  human  being  ?  It  is  related  of  an 
old  Roman,  who  had  filled  a  high  position  in  his 
nation,  that  growing  weary  of  the  affairs  of  state, 
he  retired  to  his  farm  that  he  might  live  the 
simple  life,  and  spent  his  time  growing  cabbages. 
At  a  certain  crisis  in  public  affairs,  it  was  felt 
that  his  country  needed  him  and  a  commission 
waited  on  him  and  asked  him  to  return  to  public 
ofi&ce.     He  declined  and  said  :     ' '  Come  out  and 


GOD'S  ONCE  MORE  85 

let  me  show  you  my  cabbages."     God  may  spare 
a  man  who  persists  in  shovelliug  dii't  and  grow-  y  \ 
iug  cabbages  when  he  might  be  ruling  Eome,  but     I 
can  the  man  justify  himself?    A  being  with  im-   ' 
mortal  powers  and  eternal  aspirations  must  not 
be  satisfied  to   be  chained  like  a  galley-slave. 
God  did  not  make  a  creature  with  such  powers 
and  capacities  to  burrow  like  a  worm  through  a      , 
clod,  or  flutter  like  a  blind  bat  among  the  rafters. 
Man  must  live  for  something  that  corresponds  to 
the  majesty  of  his  beiug  and  the  boundless  sweep 
of  his  powers.     He  must  seek  his  Master  on  an 
everlasting  throne.     He  was  made  for  God,  and 
only  as  he  recognizes  this  and  admits  that  he  is  , 
God's,  can  he  defend  his  right  to  be. 

God  Asserts  His  Claim 

God  insists  on  His  rights.  He  demands  pos- 
session of  His  property.  He  insists  that  man 
fulfil  the  purpose  for  which  he  was  made  and 
vindicate  his  right  to  be. 

Is  it  not  a  little  strange  that  God  must  do  this 
with  the  highest  and  noblest  of  His  creatures  ? 
Everything  else  that  God  has  made  recognizes 
what  it  was  made  for  and  goes  on  and  does  it.  | 
The  sun  was  made  to  shine  and  it  shines.  The 
natural  world  was  made  to  discharge  certain 
functions  and  it  does  so  with  such  promptness 
and  regularity  that  we  call  its  habits  'Maws,"  and 
we  regard  them  as  laws  which  cannot  be  broken. 
With  unfaltering  fidelity  the  little  creatures  as- 
signed to  scavenger  duty  go  about  their  tasks. 


86  TENDENCY 

Each  creature  in  its  place,  iu  the  wise  and  wide 
economy  of  the  world,  does  its  work  and  serves 
its  Master  without  a  murmur  until  man  is 
reached.  Then  and  there  rebellion  breaks  out 
and  man  says:  "I  am  my  own.  I  belong  to 
myself.  I  recognize  no  master.  I  will  do  as  I 
please."  That  is  sin.  Sin  is  rebellion  against 
the  law  and  order  of  the  world.  It  is  man  lifting 
from  his  brow  the  crown  of  his  own  right  to  be 
and  hurling  it  beneath  his  feet.  Sin  is  the  act 
by  which  man  uncrowns  and  degrades  his  own 
being. 

God  punishes  the  rebellion  and  insists  on  His 
rights.  He  says  to  man  :  ' '  No.  You  are  not 
your  own.  You  are  no  more  your  own  than  the 
summer  storm  which  purifies  the  atmosphere  is 
its  own.  You  are  no  more  your  own  than  are 
the  flowers  which  shed  their  fragrance  and 
beauty  on  the  world  and  lay  down  their  lives  to 
fulfil  their  mission.  You  have  no  more  right  to 
live  a  selfish  life  than  the  soil  which  grows  your 
crops  or  the  electricity  which  drives  your  cars. 
You  have  no  more  right  to  live  for  yourself  than 
I  have  to  live  for  Myself.  I  am  God.  I  am  that 
I  am.  I  am  self-existent,  but  I  bend  My  back 
beneath  the  burdens  of  all  My  creatures.  I  have 
a  right  to  be  God,  only  because  I  do  the  work  of 
a  God,  only  because  I  please  not  Myself,  but  take 
upon  Me  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  minister  to 
all  over  whom  I  rule.  Do  not  imagine  that  man 
alone,  of  all  that  is,  can  break  this  universal  law 
and  still  have  the  right  to  live." 


GOD'S  ONCE  MORE  87 

God  supports  His  claim  with  an  argument  that 
is  unanswerable. 

He  might  have  said  to  man  :  ' '  You  are  not 
your  own,  because,  like  every  other  creature,  you 
are  dependent.  You  are  served  by  others.  You 
are  part  of  a  world  in  which  all  are  partners,  and 
no  one  liveth  to  himself.  All  that  you  have, 
others  have  helped  you  to  get.  You  call  it  your 
own,  but  you  did  not  produce  it.  You  speak  of 
your  wealth,  but  multitudes  toiled  with  you  in 
its  production.  You  speak  of  your  wages,  but 
thousands  had  to  work  before  you  could  even  be 
employed.  "What  have  you  that  you  did  not 
receive?  Every  breath  that  you  draw,  every 
morsel  of  food  you  eat,  the  raiment  you  wear,  the 
fuel  which  warms  you,  as  well  as  the  sunshine 
and  music  and  beauty  of  the  world,  declare  that 
you  are  not  your  own."  God  might  have  said 
something  like  this,  and  His  claim  would  have 
been  incontestable,  but  He  goes  higher. 

He  says  to  man  :  "You  are  not  your  own,  for 
you  have  been  bought  with  a  price."  He  tells 
what  the  price  was.  It  was  the  death  of  Christ. 
This  is  what  Christ  was  doing  on  the  cross.  He 
was  paying  the  price.  This  is  the  explanation 
of  the  great  transaction.  God  was  making  the 
eternal  purchase.  He  was  buying  back  His  own. 
He  was  redeeming  His  children  from  serfdom  to 
self,  from  slavery  to  lust,  from  bondage  to  sin. 
He  did  it  with  the  death  of  Christ.  He  paid  a 
stupendous  price.  It  staggered  heaven.  There 
was  no  greater  price  for  even  God  to  pay.     Hav- 


88  TENDENCY 

ing  paid  the  price,  God  claims  His  own.  He 
says  to  His  children :  ''I  have  bought  you  from 
shame  and  folly,  from  everlasting  misery,  from 
the  infamy  of  a  lost  life.  I  have  done  it  by  giv- 
ing My  only  begotten  Son  to  the  shameful  death 
on  the  cross  ;  and  now  I  claim  My  own."  Surely 
the  price  was  enough.  When  one  reads  the  story 
and  thinks  of  what  Christ  suffered,  of  His  descent 
from  the  throne  of  deity  to  a  low  estate,  of  His 
humiliation  and  temptation  and  loneliness,  and 
of  the  agony  of  His  crucifixion  ;  and  reflects  that 
He  did  all  this  to  redeem  man  from  self,  and  to 
lead  him  to  lift  his  eyes  from  lusts  and  passions 
to  that  sublime,  divine  face  on  the  high  horizon, 
the  face  of  the  eternal  Father,  and  confess  that 
he  is  God's  ;  it  would  seem  that  enough  has  been 
paid. 

God  Follows  His  Claim  with  a  Command 
In  the  nineteenth  and  twentieth  verses  of  the 
sixth  chapter  of  First  Corinthians,  the  writer, 
having  stated  the  fact  that  God  owns  man,  passes 
on  to  a  great  conclusion. 

' '  Ye  are  not  your  own  ; ' '  that  is  the  premise ; 
"Therefore  glorify  God  in  your  body,  and  in 
your  spirit,  which  are  God's;"  that  is  the  con- 
clusion. Between  premise  and  conclusion  is 
builded  Calvary.  Before  God's  ''therefore" 
stands  a  blood-stained  cross  and  on  it  hangs  the 
Son  of  God. 

God  demands  that  His  own  glorify  Him  ;  that 
they  do  what  He  wants  done  ;  that  they  live  so 


GOD'S  ONCE  MOKE  89 

as  to  please  Him.  It  is  not  a  question  of  whether 
a  thing  will  honour  man.  Will  it  honour  God  f  \ 
It  may  dishonour  man,  but  if  it  honour  God,  it 
is  man's  dutj^,  for  he  is  God's.  It  is  not  a  ques- 
tion of  whether  a  thing  pleases  me.  Does  it 
please  God?  It  may  displease  me,  but  if  it 
pleases  God,  I  must  do  it.  I  am  His  servant.  / 
The  duty  of  a  servant  is  not  to  please  himself, 
but  his  master.     What  is  God's  will  ? 

We  are  to  glorify  Him  in  the  totality  of  our 
being  and  assets,  in  all  that  we  have  and  are,  in 
our  bodies  and  spirits,  in  that  which  is  temporal 
and  in  that  which  is  eternal. 

We  are  to  glorify  Him  in  that  part  which  is 
temporal,  in  our  bodies,  in  the  flesh.  This  body 
is  God's  temple.  If  so,  how  dare  to  defile  it! 
What  treason  to  debase  it  with  vice  and  desecrate 
it  with  the  practice  of  loathsome  lusts  1  Some- 
times we  imagine  that  if  we  honour  God  in  our 
spirits,  we  may  do  as  we  please  with  our  bodies. 
Not  so.  The  body  belongs  to  God,  and  He  de- 
mands that  it  glorify  Him.  Besides,  no  man 
can  keep  his  spirit  clean  who  allows  his  body  to 
be  foul. 

"  Let  us  not  always  say,  '  spite  of  this  flesh  to-day 
I  strove,  made  head,  gained  ground  upon  the  whole  ! ' 
As  the  bird  wings  and  sings, 
Let  us  cry,  '  All  good  things 

Are  ours,  nor  soul  helps  flesh  more,  now,  than  flesh  helps 
soul!'  "  ' 

If  we  are  God's,  all  that  we  own  is  His.     If 

'  Browning. 


90  TENDENCY 

He  owns  us,  He  owns  our  property.  He  allows 
us  to  own  it,  that  He  may  control  it.  If  one 
owns  a  piece  of  ground,  he  owns  the  grass  that 
grows  on  it.  If  God  owns  us,  we  are  to  glorify 
Him  with  all  that  we  own.  What  we  are  to  give 
Him  is  to  depend,  not  on  our  whims  and  moods, 
not  on  what  we  think  we  can  spare,  but  on  what 
it  takes  to  glorify  Him.  He  is  to  have  not  what 
we  like,  but  what  He  likes. 

This  is  the  kind  of  ownership  of  property  so- 
ciety needs  to  have  recognized  ;  not  the  public, 
collective  ownership  of  land  and  capital,  for 
which  socialism  is  shrieking  ;  but  the  divine 
ownership  of  property  whose  right  rests  on  the 
claims  of  creation  and  redemption.  If  men  would 
only  recognize  God's  right  to  His  own,  anarchism 
and  communism  and  socialism  and  all  the  other 
selfish  isms  that  bellow  for  revolution,  would  not 
have  an  ounce  of  breath  left  for  their  propaganda 
of  unrest. 

Man  has  an  eternal  part  also.  He  is  to  glorify 
God  in  his  spirit  as  well  as  in  his  body.  He  is 
to  have  the  kind  of  spirit  that  will  honour  God. 
The  spirit  that  honours  God  is  the  spirit  of  love. 
It  is  not  the  spirit  of  hate,  of  division,  of  un- 
brotherliness.  God's  kingdom  in  this  world  is 
not  advanced  by  appealing  to  the  passions  and 
suspicions  and  hates  of  men.  The  kingdom 
grows  in  love.  Man's  spirit  is  his  immortal 
part.  Some  day  man  dies  and  leaves  his  body 
behind.  The  spirit  goes  on,  for  man  is  essen- 
tially a  spirit.     He  must  glorify  God  in  his  spirit, 


GOD'S  ONCE  MOEE  91 

ill  what  he  is  ;  in  his  faith,  his  forgiveness,  his 
courage,  his  fidelity,  his  sacrifice. 

Man's  spirit  rules  his  body.  If  he  glorify 
God  in  his  spirit,  he  is  likely  to  do  so  in  his 
body.  If  he  refuse  to  honour  God  in  the  tem- 
poral, it  is  not  likely  that  he  will  honour  Him  in 
the  eternal. 

Man's  chief  end  is  to  glorify  God.     As  he  does 
this,  he  may  be  trusted  to  do  everything  else 
right.     Man  needs  faith   in  God  to  keep  him 
straight  and  safe.     Some  time  ago  a  beautiful 
boat  was  launched  on  Lake  Champlain.     Shortly 
afterwards  a  storm  came  up  and  the  boat  began 
to  drift.     The  captain  ordered  the  anchor  out 
but  the  boat  continued  to  drift.     Again  he  thun-  ( 
dered  the  command:  "Out  with  the  anchor."  j 
They  told    him   the  anchor   was    out,    but  the 
boat    continued    to    drift,   and   eventually  wentj 
down.     The  anchor    chain  was    three  feet  tool 
short. 

Any  anchor  chain  that  fails  to  lay  hold  of  God 
is  too  short  to  save  man  in  this  storm -stressed  life. 
The  man  who  is  to  live  through  the  storm  must 
have  hold  of  God.  It  is  he  who  loves  God  that 
can  be  depended  on  to  love  his  fellow  man.  It  is 
the  man  who  is  genuinely  Christian  that  can  be 
depended  on  to  be  thoroughly  human.  It  is  the 
man  who  carries  the  highest  motive  to  the  lowli- 
est deed  that  is  likely  to  do  best  the  least  thing 
that  needs  doing. 

Therefore  glorify  God  ! 

A  life  with  this  clause  makes  "drudgery  divine." 


92  TENDENCY 

In  God's  Claim  and  Command  Resides  Man's 
Guarantee 

The  command  comes  wearing  the  stern  face  of 
duty,  calling  for  self-abnegation  and  self-sacri- 
ficing service.  It  seems  to  load  us  down  with 
the  shackles  of  slavery  and  to  impose  upon  us  a 
perpetual  bondage  ;  but  as  we  come  to  under- 
stand it,  the  face  of  duty  is  transfigured  and 
shines  with  blessed  privilege,  the  shackles  are 
changed  into  the  jewelled  bracelets  and  gold 
chains  of  royalty,  and  bondage  becomes  heirship. 
If  we  are  God's,  we  must  glorify  Him  ;  but  if  we 
are  God's,  we  are  safe.  No  evil  can  befall  us. 
We  are  not  slaves  for  the  very  reason  that  we  are 
God's  slaves.  Slavery  to  Him  has  become  a  great 
emancipation.  "If  the  Son  shall  make  you  free, 
ye  shall  be  free  indeed."  If  we  are  God's,  we 
tare  no  longer  outcasts,  wanderers,  but  children 
■  of  the  King,  vested  with  all  rights,  dowered  with 
all  privileges,  clothed  with  all  powers,  and 
crowned  with  fadeless  destiny. 

God  will  not  neglect  His  own.  He  may  sulfer 
them  to  be  tempted,  but  not  beyond  they  are 
able  to  bear.  He  may  allow  them  to  be  afiiicted, 
but  He  will  make  it  work  out  for  them  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory.  If  God 
has  power.  He  will  use  it  for  His  own.  If  He 
has  wisdom.  He  will  use  His  wisdom  for  His 
own ;  love.  He  will  use  His  love  for  His  own. 
He  will  not  starve  His  own  children.  ''If  ye 
then  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto 
your  children  ;  how  much  more  shall  your  Father 


GOD'S  ONCE  MOEE  93 

who  is  in  heaven  give  good  things  to  them  that 
ask  Himr'^ 

We  do  not  admit  that  we  are  God's  once  more ; 
we  boast  it. 

He  will  not  suifer  His  own  to  be  lost.  Whatever 
it  may  mean  to  be  lost,  it  certainly  means  some- 
thing in  a  real  and  awful  sense,  even  in  this 
world.  One  may  not  like  the  old  theology,  but 
there  is  a  lost  world.  If  we  are  God's,  He  will 
not  suffer  us  to  be  lost.  With  His  everlasting 
arms  around  us,  salvation  is  secure.  "  All  that 
the  Father  giveth  Me,  shall  come  to  Me."  "I 
give  unto  them  eternal  life,  and  they  shall  never 
perish." 

If  we  are  God's,  God  is  ours.  If  God  is  ours 
all  that  God  is  and  has  is  ours. 

One  may  have  little  in  his  own  name.  If  his 
heaven  is  to  be  only  what  he  earns  it  will  be  a 
poor  heaven.  Human  merit  will  not  buy  much 
in  the  markets  of  eternity.  But  if  one  be  God's 
he  is  God's  heir.  If  he  is  God's  not  only  is  all 
his  God's,  but  all  God's  is  his.  To  give  up  all 
for  God  is  not  to  be  beggared.  It  is  not  giving 
up  that  beggars,  it  is  holding  on.  A  lad,  whose 
father  was  offering  him  a  present,  was  unable  to 
take  it.  He  had  gotten  his  hand  fastened  in  a 
long  jar  with  a  slender  neck  and  seemed  unable 
to  extricate  it.  His  father  told  him  to  pull  his 
hand  out,  but  he  said  :  "I  can't  let  go."  '' Let 
go  of  what  r '  "  Why,  the  penny  ! "  The  little 
fellow  had  put  his  hand  into  the  vase  to  take  out 
'  Matt.  vii.  13. 


li 


94  TENDENCY 

a  penny  and  his  chubby  fist,  that  refused  to  let 
the  penny  go,  was  too  big  for  the  opening.  He 
let  go  and  found  that  he  got  his  present  and  kept 
his  penny  too. 

It  is  a  common  blunder  in  life  to  hold  on  to 
some  trifling  value  and  lose  eternal  riches. 

The  way  to  be  rich  is  to  let  go  and  be  God's 
forever. 


vn 

THE  COMFORTER 

"  For  one  soul  working  in  the  strength  of  love, 
Is  mightier  than  ten  thousand  to  atone. ' ' 

— Sophocles  in  CEdipus  at  Colonus. 

The  problem  of  man's  development  toward 
God  is  a  problem  for  both  man  and  God.  Man's 
effort  to  solve  the  problem,  as  we  shall  see  later, 
involves  all  the  complexities  of  human  experi- 
ence. Nothing  is  incidental  or  accidental.  Every 
note,  however  lightly  struck  or  however  much  of 
discord  it  may  seem  at  the  time  to  make,  is  a 
part  of  the  great  symphony  of  being. 

God's  effort  to  solve  the  problem  resolves  itself 
into  a  single  task.  It  is  the  transfer  of  His  life 
to  man.  If  this  can  be  accomplished,  this  life  of 
God  in  a  man's  soul  will  ultimately  fashion  his 
character  into  godlikeness  and  direct  his  destiny 
god  ward.  Just  as  the  life  of  a  rose  in  a  homely 
root  will  some  day  bud  and  blossom  into  the 
flower  we  love,  so  the  life  of  God  in  a  man  will 
permeate  his  being  with  its  glory  and  direct  and 
determine  his  development  towards  God. 

The  transfer  of  this  divine  life  into  the  human 
is  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

All  human  need  is  met  by  the  ministry  of  the 
divine  spirit.  Every  plan  and  purpose  of  God 
95 


96  TENDENCY 

for  man  is  realized  as  the  Spirit  has  the  right  of 
way  in  human  life.  He  is  the  eternal  Father's 
highest  thought  for  the  safety  and  welfare  of  His 
own. 

Christ's  name  for  the  Spirit  is  "  Comforter." 

The  Comforter  is  the  infinite  soul  of  the  world, 
"working  in  the  strength  of  love,"  to  develop 
the  life  of  God  in  souls  for  whom  love  has  already 
made  atonement. 

Christ's  promise  to  His  disciples  was  that  He 
would  not  leave  them  comfortless.  He  did  not 
promise  that  He  would  not  leave  them  poor  or 
sad  or  persecuted  or  afflicted  or  distressed  or  sor- 
rowful, but  He  did  say  :  "I  will  not  leave  you 
comfortless."  He  did  say:  ''Whatever  your 
lot,  however  hard  your  conditions,  however  great 
I  your  sorrows  and  sore  your  bereavements,  you 
shall  have  comfort  and  consolation  and  cheer  and 
moral  strength  and  spiritual  fortitude  and  holy 
hope  and  triumphant  confidence,  for  I  will  not 
leave  you  comfortless. ' ' 

He  fulfilled  His  promise  by  sending  the  Com- 
forter. His  plan  was  not  to  relieve  His  disciples 
of  the  things  which  tried  them.  It  was  not  to 
destroy  their  enemies  and  diminish  their  diffi- 
culties and  reduce  their  work.  It  was  not  to 
give  them  a  new  world  to  live  in.  The  world 
was  to  stand  but  He  was  to  send  to  them  in  the 
world  the  Comforter.  This  Comforter  is  the 
Holy  Spirit,  the  third  person  of  the  blessed 
Trinity.  So  great  and  glorious  and  complete,  so 
permanent    and  preeminent  and  divine  is  His 


THE  COMFORTEE  97 

ministry,  that  He  Las  preempted  the  uame.     He  j  a 
is  uot  a  comforter,  but  the  Comforter,  the  blessed  i  \ 
Paraclete. 

Christ  gave  His  estimate  of  the  ministry  of  the 
Comforter.  He  said  to  His  disciples,  "  It  is  ex- 
pedient for  you  that  I  go  away  :  for  if  I  go  uot 
away,  the  Comforter  will  uot  come  unto  you ; 
but  if  I  depart,  I  will  send  Him  unto  you."  The 
statement  must  have  staggered  His  disciples. 
How  was  it  possible  for  any  one  to  take  Christ's 
place  ?  Nevertheless,  He  says  that  there  is  one 
who  can  do  better  than  He  has  done  or  can  do  ; 
so  much  better  that  for  their  sakes  He  is  going  \ 
to  leave  them. 

It  was  hard  for  the  disciples  to  understand  such 
a  saying.  As  He  looked  into  the  faces  of  the  men 
He  loved,  with  a  break  in  His  voice  which  told 
of  His  affection  for  them  and  with  a  light  in  His 
eye  which  told  that  this  affection  was  so  great 
He  would  put  Himself  aside,  Jesus  stated  it  as 
His  deliberate  conviction  that  there  was  a  greater 
blessing  than  to  have  Him. 

The  Value  of  the  Comforter 
Could  there  be  a  stronger  statement  of  the 
value  of  the  ministry  of  the  Holy  Spirit! 

Jesus  seems  to  say  that  the  highest  good  He 
can  conceive  of  for  His  disciples  is  not  for  them 
to  have  Him  with  them  but  for  them  to  have  the 
Holy  Spirit  with  them.  How  could  anything  be 
better  than  Christ  ?  If  these  men  may  only  have 
Him   with  them,   they  can  stand  anything.     If 


98  TENDENCY 

they  may  see  His  face  and  bear  His  voice  and  be 
blessed  with  His  safe  counsel  and  inspiring  lead- 
ership and  hallowed  fellowship,  all  will  be  well. 

There  are  Christians  to-day  who  feel  this  way 
about  the  physical  presence  of  Christ.  They  are 
looking  for  Christ's  return  to  earth  in  bodily 
form  as  the  consummation  of  Christian  hope. 
They  feel  that  little  can  be  done  under  existing 
conditions.  The  world  is  to  grow  worse  and 
worse,  deceiving  and  being  deceived.  Their 
prayer  is:  "Oh  Lord,  tarry  not  but  come." 
The  most  that  the  Church  can  do  at  present  is  to 
protest  and  witness.  Only  when  Christ  returns 
and  leads  His  Church  in  person  against  the  enemy 
can  the  victory  be  won. 

Yet  Christ  is  saying  that  there  is  something 
better  than  this,  something  better  for  the  Church 
than  to  have  Him.  It  is  for  the  Church  to  have 
the  Holy  Spirit.  It  is  so  much  better,  that  He  is 
going  away  in  order  that  the  Holy  Spirit  may 
I  come. 

Christ  measured  the  blessing  of  the  Comforter 
by  the  greatest  blessing  the  world  had  received. 
He  said  that  it  is  greater  than  the  greatest.  It 
was  something  when  ' '  God  so  loved  the  world, 
that  He  gave  His  only  begotten  Son,  that  whoso- 
ever believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life."  That  seemed  to  exhaust 
all  the  resources  in  the  treasury  of  divine  love. 
That  gave  the  world  a  Saviour.  Christ  is  saying 
that  a  greater  blessing  remains.  God's  highest 
gift  to  man  is  to  be  shed  forth.     It  is  the  gift  of 


THE  COMFOETER  99 

the  Comforter  which  the  Father  will  send  iu  His 
Sou's  name,  aud  through  whom  He  is  to  com- 
muuicate  His  life  to  mau. 

What  would  the  world  be  if  Christ  had  not 
come  aud  lived  iu  it  1  We  have  grown  so  used 
to  our  blessings  that  we  take  them  for  granted. 
We  forget  that  they  came  with  Christ  and  are  the 
product  of  His  ministry  among  men. 

Among  the  cards  which  came  to  my  table  one  'K 
Christmas  was  one  entitled,  "The  Birthday  of  * 
Hope."  It  is  the  story  of  a  minister's  dream  on 
Christmas  Eve.  He  is  seated  in  his  study  and 
hears  in  the  street  below  his  window  a  band 
playing  the  old  Christmas  hymn,  "  Oh,  come  all 
ye  faithful."  His  'New  Testameut  is  open  before 
him  and  he  has  read  in  the  Gospel  of  the  beloved 
disciple  to  the  line  "If  I  had  not  come,"  when 
he  falls  asleep  and  dreams  of  a  Christless  world. 
The  first  thing  to  impress  him  about  this  world 
into  which  Christ  had  not  come  was  that  it  was 
a  world  without  Christmas.  He  steps  into  the 
street,  but  there  is  no  Christmas  cheer  in  the  air. 
Instead  of  the  salutations  of  good-will,  there  are 
the  curt  nods  and  hurried  greetings  of  those  who 
are  absorbed  with  their  own  plans.  He  enters 
the  homes  of  the  people  and  finds  that  the  chil- 
dren have  not  hung  up  their  stockings  in  glad 
anticipation  of  Christmas  morning.  He  looks  in 
upon  the  poor  and  finds  that  no  one  has  been 
there  with  baskets  of  good  things  for  the  Christ- 
mas dinner.  The  faces  of  the  children  are 
pinched  by  poverty  and  pale  with  want.     Turn- 


in 


100  TENDENCY 

ing  to  the  street  again  he  sees  a  great  bare  spot 
]  A  on  the  top  of  the  hill  where  had  stood  the  splendid 

Cathedral  overlooking  the  town  with  its  protect- 
ing benediction.  It  had  disappeared,  for  it  was 
a  world  into  which  Christ  had  not  come.  As  he 
went  on,  he  came  upon  other  vacant  spaces, 
where  had  stood  other  churches,  the  hospital, 
the  orphanage,  the  asylum,  the  dispensary  and 
various  buildings  erected  as  an  expression  of 
faith  in  the  Man  of  Galilee. 

The  people  whom  he  met  seemed  anxious  and 
weary,  and  as  he  looked  closer  he  discovered  that 
each  carried  on  his  shoulder  a  burden.  One  man 
as  he  passed  him  was  saying  :  ' '  Oh,  wretched  man 
that  I  am  !  Who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body 
of  this  death  ?  "  He  was  about  to  tell  him  of  the 
cross  where  burdens  roll  away,  when  he  remem- 
bered that  there  was  no  cross,  for  it  was  a  world 
into  which  Christ  had  not  come. 

Sick  at  heart,  he  entered  his  study  again,  to 
find  that  during  his  absence,  a  great  change  had 
taken  place.  Whole  rows  of  books  had  disap- 
peared from  his  library  shelves.  Every  book 
about  Christ  was  gone.  He  opened  his  Bible 
and  found  that  it  ended  with  Malachi.  There 
was  no  New  Testament,  for  Christ  had  not 
come.  He  took  down  Browning  and  Milton  and 
found  many  blank  spaces  in  these  poets.  He 
discovered  that  everything  in  his  books  i)rompted 
or  inspired  by  Christ  and  His  teachings  had  van- 
ished. He  turned  to  find  an  empty  space  over 
the  mantel  where  had  hung  a  picture  he  dearly 


THE  COMFOETER  101 

loved.  It  was  the  picture  of  a  man,  blood- 
staiued,  foot-sore,  iu  torn  garments,  bearing  in 
his  arms  a  tired  lamb. 

Often,  when  worn  and  weary  in  his  work  as 
an  under-shepherd  of  the  flock,  he  had  gone  to 
this  picture  of  the  Good  Shepherd  and  thought 
of  his  Master  and  been  comforted.  Now  it  was 
gone,  and  as  his  eye  went  around  the  room,  he 
found  that  almost  every  picture  he  loved  had 
disappeared. 

With  tears  of  disappointment,  he  sank  into  his 
chair,  when  a  tap  at  the  door  told  him  that  a 
child  below  was  asking  to  see  him.  He  went 
down  to  find  a  little  girl,  her  eyes  swollen  with 
weeping,  who  said:  "Won't  you  come  to  see 
father?  He  is  very  ill."  Hand  in  hand,  they 
went  through  the  night  to  the  home  where  the 
lights  in  the  upper  windows  told  of  sickness. 
When  he  reached  the  bedside,  the  dying  man 
said:  "Can't  you  help  me?"  "I  think  I 
can,"  he  replied,  and  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket 
for  his  New  Testament  to  find  that  there  was  no 
New  Testament  and  that  he  had  no  Gospel  with 
which  to  comfort  the  last  hours  of  a  dying  man. 
The  man  died  a  Christless  death.  At  the  funeral, 
there  was  no  song  of  hope,  no  blessed  promises 
of  the  resurrection,  no  message  of  the  mansions 
prepared  for  them  that  love  Him. 

The  only  words  of  the  funeral  service  were 
"Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust." 
As  the  hard  clods  fell  on  the  coffin  lid,  he  awoke 
from  his  horrible  dream  to  find  that  this  cruel, 


102  TENDENCY 

fl  pitiless,  Christless  world  was  false,  and  to  hear 
the  band  a  little  further  up  the  street  still  playing 
the  old  hymn  : 

"Oh,  come  all  ye  faithful,  joyfully  triumphant  ! " 

It  was  only  a  dream,  and  yet  there  is  a  sense 
in  which  the  dream  is  true,  for  if  Christ  had  not 
come  the  world  would  be  all  and  worse  than  the 
dream.  Society  would  go  back  to  chaos  and  ex- 
istence would  become  intolerable. 

Yet  Christ  declares  there  is  something  better 
than  all  the  blessings  which  have  come  by  reason 
of  His  presence  among  men.  He  seems  to  say  : 
Gather  together  all  that  I  have  brought ;  all 
changes  in  government  and  school  and  home  and 

.     society ;    all    philanthropies   and   charities  and 

I  humanities  ;  all  merciful  deeds  and  tender  loves 
and  immortal  hopes,  and  compute  their  worth. 
Tax  the  mathematics  of  the  universe  to  cast  up 
the  sum  total.  Beggar  the  values  of  time  and 
eternity  to  express  the  result.  And  when  at  last 
you  have  reached  it,  know  there  is  something 
^  better,  higher,  diviner  than  for  the  world  to 
*\  have  Me.  It  is  for  the  world  to  have  My  spirit. 
It  is  for  My  people  to  have  the  Comforter.  This 
is  so  much  better  that  it  is  expedient  for  Me  to 
go  away,  "for  if  I  go  not  away  the  Comforter 
will  not  come  unto  you  ;  but  if  I  depart,  I  will 
send  Him  unto  you."  Amazing  statement !  The 
value  of  a  gift  measured  on  such  a  scale  bewilders 

V      us.     What  men  need  is  not  so  much  a  divine  ex- 

«     ample  as  the  divine  life. 


THE  COMFORTER  103 

Christ  speaks  as  if  the  comiug  of  the  Com- 
forter depended  on  His  departure.  Why  ?  It  is 
a  mystery  whose  secret  we  must  doubtless  wait 
for  eternity  to  disclose.  Is  Jesus  saying  that 
heaven  has  claims  on  godhood,  too  ?  Is  He  in- 
timating that  the  concerns  of  that  vast  realm  are 
such  that  it  cannot  surrender  two  persons  of  the 
Holy  Trinity  to  earth  at  the  same  time  and  for 
the  same  dispensation  ? 

Whatever  the  explanation  may  be,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  as  to  the  value  of  the  Comforter's 
mission.  In  characters  as  high  as  the  highest 
heavens,  the  blessedness  of  the  Spirit's  ministry 
is  announced. 

The  Mission  of  the  Comforter 

How  does  the  Comforter  fulfil  His  mission? 
How  does  He  communicate  and  develop  the  life 
of  God  in  a  human  soul  ?  What  does  He  do  that 
makes  His  mission  the  crowning  consummation 
of  Christ's  career? 

He  applies  all  that  Christ  did.     He  makes  the  A 
principles  for  which  Christ  died  victorious.     He 
establishes  the  kingdom.     This  is  the  dispensa- 
tion of  the  Holy  Spirit.     Christ  accomplished 
salvation,    the  Holy  Spirit   applies  it.      Christ \i 
made  salvation  possible,  the  Holy  Spirit  makes  |l 
it  actual.     Christ  made  salvation  sufficient,  the    I 
Holy  Spirit  makes  it  efficient. 

He  does  this  by  glorifying  Christ.  Clirist 
said:     "He  shall  not  speak  of  Himself,"  and 


104  TENDENCY 

again  :  *'He  shall  testify  of  Me."  The  Com- 
forter reveals  the  glory  of  Christ.  The  mission 
of  a  stereopticon  light  is  not  to  display  itself,  but, 
as  far  as  possible  to  conceal  itself,  and  throw  on 
the  canvas  a  picture,  and  make  the  picture  large 
and  distinct  and  vivid.  This  is  the  mission  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  in  revealing  Christ.  He  throws 
on  human  life  a  great,  luminous,  radiant,  lovely 
revelation  of  the  Saviour. 

He  also  communicates  Christ.  In  regeneration 
Christ  is  born  within  us  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
in  sanctification  Christ  is  developed  within  us  by 
the  selfsame  spirit. 

The  Comforter  also  reproves  the  world,  pro- 
ducing conviction. 

He  reproves  the  world  of  sin ;  not  of  the  sin 
of  violating  the  law — any  one  can  convict  of  that 
kind  of  sin ;  but  of  the  sin  of  not  believing  on 
Christ.  Only  the  Holy  Spirit  can  convict  men 
i  of  this  sin. 

He  reproves  the  world  of  righteousness  j  not  of 
the  righteousness  which  is  of  the  law,  the  right- 
eousness of  morality — any  one  can  convince  of 
that  kind  of  righteousness ;  but  of  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ,  the  righteousness  Christ  imputes 
and  whose  power  is  certified  by  Christ's  ascension 
to  the  Father.  Only  the  Holy  Spirit  can  con- 
vict and  convince  of  this  righteousness. 

He  reproves  the  world  of  judgment ;  not  of  the 

judgment  against  the  violator  of  law — any  one 

can  convict  of  that  judgment;  but  of  the  judg- 

■  ment  of  evil,  of  the  condemnation  of  iniquity,  of 


THE  COMFORTEE  105 

the  defeat  and  final  overthrow  of  all  that  is  wrong. 
Only  the  Holy  Spirit  can  convict  in  this  judg- 
ment. He  shows  men  that  Christ  has  won  the|! 
victory.  He  reveals  the  prince  of  this  world  in 
chains,  beggared  and  dethroned  ;  and,  exalted  iii 
his  place,  He  reveals  Christ,  the  blessed  Prince 
of  Peace. 

Such,  in  part,  is  the  mission  of  the  Comforter. 
He  constructs  the  kingdom.  He  lifts  the  name 
of  the  despised  Nazarene  above  every  name.  To 
the  natural  eye,  when  we  see  Him,  there  is  no 
beauty  that  we  should  desire  Him  ;  but  when  re- 
vealed by  the  Comforter,  Christ  becomes  the 
chiefest  among  ten  thousand  and  the  one  alto- 
gether lovely.  No  character  is  so  stainless  as 
His,  no  sacrifice  so  holy,  no  love  so  resistless. 
With  the  Comforter,  failure  is  impossible.  There 
is  no  room  for  pessimism.  The  Holy  Spirit  pos- 
sesses all  power  for  conquest.  Because  of  a 
peculiar  interpretation  of  an  unfulfilled  prophecy, 
to  throw  up  our  hands  in  despair  and  declare  the 
present  dispensation  impossible  of  results  does 
not  honour  Christ.  It  is  treason  to  the  value  of 
His  ascension  promise. 

This,  however,  is  not  all  the  Comforter  does. 
It  was  a  great  thing  for  the  disciples  to  have  the 
success  of  their  mission  underwritten  by  the 
third  person  of  the  Holy  Trinity  and  to  be  abso- 
lutely assured  of  ultimate  victory  ;  but  this  was 
not  all.  There  would  come  times  of  loneliness* 
and  trial  and  persecution  and  martyrdom.  He  1 
was  to  be  the  Comforter  for  these  hours  also. 


106  TENDENCY 

The  Holy  Spirit  comforts  the  Christian  with 
two  great  blessings. 

One  is  strength.  The  promise  is,  "You  shall 
r  J  have  power  after  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  come  upon 
'  you."  It  makes  little  difference  as  to  the  size  of 
our  task  or  the  weight  of  our  burden  or  the  ex- 
tent of  our  field  if  only  we  have  the  power.  We 
do  not  want  to  reduce  our  work,  but  to  increase 
I  our  power.  We  do  not  want  to  become  less 
j  efficieut  but  more  useful.  This  Christ  gives  us 
through  His  Spirit.  Strength  is  a  great  comfort. 
If  only  we  may  have  strength  enough,  we  can  re- 
sist, endure,  and  achieve  without  growiug  tired 
or  despairing.  Through  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  one  may  double,  treble,  quadruple  himself. 

The  other  blessing  is  knowledge.  The  Com- 
I .  forter  is  to  lead  us  into  all  truth.  He  shall  teach 
us  all  things,  and  bring  all  things  to  our  remem- 
brance that  Christ  has  said.  He  lights  up  dark 
problems  and  gives  spiritual  illumination.  He 
does  not  give  us  a  scientific  explanation  of  the 
mysteries  of  time  and  eternity,  but  He  gives  us 
that  higher  soul  perception  by  which  one  can 
say  :  "I  know  whom  I  have  believed." 

Are  we  cast  down  with  a  sense  of  guilt  ?  The 
Comforter  takes  of  the  things  of  Christ  and 
shows  them  unto  us.  He  takes  the  word  which 
says  :  ' '  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  from 
all  sin,"  and  we  are  comforted. 

Is  it  an  hour  of  loneliness  and  depression,  of 
heart-sickness  and  homesickness'?  The  Com- 
forter brings  to  our  remembrance  how  Christ 


THE  COMFORTER  107 

said  :  *'  I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless,"  and 
our  hearts  have  rest.  Is  it  a  lime  of  anxiety? 
Is  the  mind  tossed  by  perplexity  or  worried  with 
the  friction  of  trifles  I  The  Comforter  brings  to 
our  remembrance  that  Christ  said  :  "  Peace  I 
leave  with  you,  My  peace  I  give  unto  you,  not 
as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you.  Let  not 
your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid," 
and  we  are  comforted. 

Is  sorrow  our  portion?  Does  bereavement 
come  and  break  our  hearts?  Then  once  more 
the  Comforter  takes  of  the  things  of  Christ  and 
shows  them  unto  us.  He  reminds  us  of  the  word 
which  says:  "In  My  Father's  house  are  many 
mansions,  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you." 
Sorrow  has  become  sacramental.  We  begin  to 
understand  what  our  Lord  meant  when  He  said  : 
"Blessed  are  they  that  mourn,  for  they  shall  be 
comforted."  Bereavement  has  become  an  open 
door  through  which  we  pass  into  the  secret  of  the 
divine  presence.  Surely  Christ  made  no  mistake 
when  He  gave  to  His  disciples  this  highest  proof 
of  His  love.  We  are  wont  to  think  of  His 
death  on  the  cross  as  the  highest  proof,  but  was 
it  not  a  loftier  devotion  even  than  the  cross, 
when  He  put  His  own  love  aside  and  went  away 
that  His  disciples  might  have  the  Comforter  ? 

The  Conditions 
To  acquire  the  Spirit,  it  is  not  necessary  to 
persuade  God.     One  does  not  need  to  pray  Grod 
to  send  the  Comforter.     Chi'ist  has  prayed  that 


1^ 


108  TENDENCY 

prayer  aud  it  has  been  answered.     The  Holy 
Spirit  has  been  shed  forth. 

The  man  who  wants  fresh  air  does  not  need  to 
go  down  on  his  knees  and  pray  God  to  send  it. 
He  needs  only  to  throw  oj)en  his  window  and 
breathe  it  in.  God  has  provided  as  amply  for 
the  soul  as  for  the  lungs. 

"  His  greatness  flows  around  our  incompleteness, 
Around  our  restlessness,  His  rest !  " 

One  needs  but  to  claim  the  Comforter. 

Nevertheless,  before  he  can  do  so,  he  must 
comply  with  the  conditions  for  the  indwelling  of 
the  Spirit. 

Christ  may  send  the  Holy  Ghost,  but  He  can- 
not comfort  one  who  is  living  in  known  sin.  Sin 
grieves  the  Spirit.  This  is  the  awful  thing  about 
sin.  Its  ruin  is  vastly  more  than  the  legal  pen- 
alty inflicted  by  a  violated  law.  Sin  makes  it 
impossible  for  the  soul  to  receive  Christ's  ascen- 
sion gift. 

The  other  condition  is  the  surrender  of  the  will 
to  God.  God's  people  must  be  willing  in  the  day 
of  His  power.  It  is  an  easy  thing  to  talk  about 
complete  surrender,  but  when  it  comes  to  the  do- 
ing, nothing  is  more  difficult.  Yet  before  Christ 
can  give  His  best  blessing,  the  will  must  lie 
broken  and  surrendered  at  His  feet.  God's  will 
must  rule  ours  not  because  He  has  crushed  us, 
but  because,  like  Jacob  at  the  brook,  we  have 
ceased  to  contend  and  begun  to  cling.     This  is 


THE  COMFOETER  109 

the  great  victory.  It  is  what  God  wanted  of 
Abraham  ou  Mouut  Moiiah.  He  did  uot  waut  the 
old  Patriarch  to  slay  his  son.  He  did  waut  him 
to  slay  his  will.  Job  was  nowhere  greater  than 
when,  looking  across  the  barren  waste  of  his  deso- 
late life  he  cried,  "  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will 
I  trust  Him."  David  was  never  more  a  king 
than  when  he  turned  from  the  dead  face  of  his 
child,  and  "  changed  his  apparel,  and  came  into 
the  house  of  the  Lord  and  worshipped."  Chi'ist 
had  no  holier  hour  than  there  in  Gethsemane 
when  in  His  agony  He  was  caught  up  into  the 
very  heart  of  God,  and  said  :  "  Nevertheless  not 
what  I  will,  but  what  Thou  wilt." 

This  is  the  surrender  that  must  be  made.  It  is 
the  price  Christ  paid  to  send  and  we  must  not 
pay  less  to  secure  the  Holy  Spirit. 

Is  Christian  experience  barren  1  Is  there  little 
of  joy  and  peace  and  strength  1  It  is  because  one 
does  not  give  God  a  chance  to  comfort  him.  He 
is  trying  to  comfort  himself  with  some  cheap, 
shallow,  human  expedient  for  happiness  ;  and  all 
the  time  the  Comforter,  whom  Christ  went  to  the 
highest  heavens  to  send  down  to  this  troubled, 
sorrowing,  sin-sick  world  is  saying  :  ' '  Let  Me 
comfort  you. ' ' 

He  is  here.  We  may  not  see  Him,  nor  feel  the 
glory  of  His  presence.  We  may  be  gazing  into 
the  distant  heavens,  as  if  Christ  had  forgotten, 
but  the  Comforter  has  come.  We  are  in  a  spir- 
itual atmosphere  that  is  far  more  real  than  the 
sensual. 


110  TENDENCY 

One  summer,  on  the  Santa  Fe  Railroad,  I  went 
through  the  San  Bernardino  country,  where  a 
few  months  later  gold  was  discovered,  yielding 
$120  to  the  ton  ;  and  into  which  men  poured  by 
the  hundreds  and  the  thousands  with  the  lust  for 
gain.  As  I  looked  out  of  the  car  window  on 
those  brown  and  barren  stretches  of  desert,  de- 
void of  any  sign  of  life,  I  saw  only  the  glare  of 
the  blistering  sun  on  the  gaunt  rocks  and  hot 
sands.  Yet  there  before  my  eyes,  within  three 
miles  of  the  railroad  track,  was  one  of  the  richest 
gold  fields  in  this  country. 

There  is  a  promise  of  treasure  richer  than  all 
the  gold  of  the  Klondike  and  all  the  diamonds  of 
the  Transvaal  and  all  the  money  in  all  the  mints 
and  all  the  treasuries  of  all  the  nations  of  the 
world.  But  the  eye  is  holden.  We  look  out  on 
life  as  upon  a  bare  and  barren  stretch  of  sun- 
baked desert  sand.  We  are  discouraged  and 
pessimistic  and  unbelieving.  Yet  beside  us 
stands  one  who  can  change  the  desert  into  a 
garden.     Oh,  for  sight ! 


VIII 
THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOUL 

*"A  handful  of  souls,'  he  mused— '  just  a  handful — 
scarcely  enough  to  make  the  merest  infinitesimal  speck  of 
molecular  dust  in  the  whirl  of  the  cosmos  !  And  yet — we 
must  believe  God  cares  for  even  this  handful.'  " — The  Vicar 
ofShadbrook  in  "Holy  Orders." 

"Man's  unhappiuess  comes,  in  part,  from  his  greatness. 
There  is  an  infinite  in  him,  which,  with  all  his  cunning,  he 
cannot  quite  bury  under  the  finite." — Carlyle. 

The  transfer  of  the  divine  nature  from  God  to 
man  and  man's  resultant  development  constitute 
the  great  mystery  of  spiritual  life  which  bafiles 
while  it  enchants  us. 

The  making  of  a  soul  is  the  business  of  being, 
so  far  as  man  is  concerned,  and  no  business  is  so 
complex.     It  draws  on  all  worlds  for  its  materials. 

Spiritual  life  is  not  made  offhand ;  even  when 
God  Himself  handles  the  tools  and  presides  over 
the  process.  The  statures  and  stations  of  that 
life  are  not  conferred,  but  achieved.  They  come 
as  the  result  of  the  unfolding  and  outgrowing  of 
the  divine  principle  or  tendency  within. 

Jesus  throws  some  light  on  the  question  in  an 

interview  with  two  of  His  disciples,  James  and 

John,  who  had  come  to  Him  asking  that  they 

might  sit  the  one  on  His  right  hand  and  the 

111 


112  TENDENCY 

other  on  His  left  in  His  kingdom.  Their  ambi- 
tion was  great.  It  soared  to  the  seat  of  godhood. 
Their  Master  rebuked  them  for  stupidity,  not  be- 
cause they  were  asking  for  too  much,  but  because 
they  expected  to  get  it  without  struggle.  They 
were  thinking  only  of  the  glory  and  forgetting 
the  field  of  battle.  They  were  fascinated  by  the 
vision  at  the  summit,  but  unmindful  of  the  long, 
hard  climb  by  which  it  must  be  reached. 

Jesus  knew  the  weary  way  along  the  crags  and 
through  the  thorns  to  the  heights.  He  knew 
that  back  of  the  crown  was  the  cross,  and  He  said 
to  the  two  men  whose  soaring  aspirations  vaulted 
the  temporal  and  sought  the  eternal :  "  Ye  know 
not  what  ye  ask.  Are  ye  able  to  drink  the  cup 
that  I  am  about  to  drink  ?  "  ^ 

With  an  airy,  easy  self-confidence,  which 
showed  that  they  were,  as  yet,  but  shallow 
students  of  life,  they  said:  "We  are  able." 
They  felt  that  nothing  could  hinder  them  or  halt 
their  faith  or  lame  their  hope.  They  were  like 
men  on  the  edge  of  a  vast  wilderness  across 
whose  hot  sands  and  under  whose  fiery  skies  and 
through  whose  barren,  desolate  wastes  they  must 
pass  to  reach  the  goal ;  but  ignorant  of  it  all  and 
thinking  that  they  needed  but  to  make  a  prayer 
to  arrive  at  their  destination.  Their  enthusiasm 
was  splendid,  but  if  their  experience  had  been 
greater,  their  self-confidence  would  have  been 
less. 

In  a  tone  half  sad,  half  glad,  their  leader  said  : 

1  Matt.  XX.  22. 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOUL  113 

*'Yes,  you  will  drink  the  cup.  Little  as  you 
realize  what  it  meaus  you  will  adventure  the 
perils  of  the  wilderness  way.  Already  the  shadow 
of  the  cross  is  on  your  faces,  though  you  know  it 
not.  You  will  taste  the  bitterness  of  the  cup  and 
be  baptized  with  its  suffering.  You  will  hear  the 
cry  of  persecution  and  the  shout  of  those  who 
would  destroy  you.  You  will  feel  the  loneliness, 
the  heart-sickness,  the  desertion  ;  and  as  you  do, 
you  will  begin  to  understand  how  the  heights  are 
scaled  ;  but  as  to  these  high  seats  in  glory  which 
you  covet,  they  are  not  Mine  to  give,  but  they 
are  for  those  for  whom  they  have  been  prepared." 
The  Saviour's  reply  must  have  suri^rised  His 
disciples,  not  by  its  refusal,  but  by  the  ground 
of  this  refusal.  Their  disappointment  iu  not 
getting  what  they  sought  was  swallowed  up  in 
their  astonishment  at  Christ's  inability  to  give  it. 

God's  Limitations 

There  are  some  things  in  the  destiny  of  a  human 
life  that  are  not  God's  to  determine.  The  reason 
is  not  that  God  is  a  small  god.  There  are  spirit- 
ual blessings  within  reach  of  every  human  life, 
but  not  within  the  power  of  any  being,  either 
human  or  divine,  to  bestow.  There  are  triumphs 
of  grace  and  degrees  of  usefulness  and  estates  of 
happiness  for  which  the  soul  longs,  but  about 
which  even  God  must  say  :  ''They  are  not  Mine 
to  give." 

The  amazing  thing  is  that  the  Saviour,  who 
claims  to  be  able  to  save  unto  the  uttermost  all 


114  TENDENCY 

who  come,  makes  this  admission.  Christ  is  the 
preacher  of  the  limitations  of  God  in  the  making 
of  a  soul.  His  is  the  voice  that  tells  us  that  there 
are  things  God  wants  us  to  have  but  cannot  give. 

They  are  the  best  things.  The  best  is  none 
too  good  for  man.  It  is  not  wrong  to  aspire.  It 
is  wrong  not  to  aspire.  There  is  no  virtue  in  be- 
ing satisfied  with  little  in  the  kingdom  of  life. 
It  is  a  false  humility  that  would  content  itself 
with  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  the  table  of 
privilege.  Every  man  has  the  divine  right  to 
regard  himself  as  the  special  favourite  of  heaven. 

It  is  when  we  come  to  claim  our  privileges  that 
we  strike  against  a  dead  wall.  Heaven  seems 
unable  to  honour  our  draft,  and  we  begin  to  won- 
der whether  the  soul  is  able  to  covet  a  blessing 
that  God  is  unable  to  bestow,  or  can  it  be  that 
human  aspiration  soars  beyond  divine  resources  *? 

Nevertheless,  the  best  is  attainable.  The 
Saviour  did  not  tell  His  disciples  that  these  high 
degrees  were  impossible,  that  they  were  asking  for 
that  which  they  could  never  get.  He  merely 
said  that  they  were  not  His  to  bestow. 

The  heights  are  open.  The  radiant  ascent  to 
the  seat  of  godhood  in  glory  is  not  impossible. 
God  does  not  bar  the  way.  Omnipotence  does 
not  tether  us  down  to  the  swamps  of  doubt  and 
the  foothills  of  mediocrity.  The  highest  soul- 
life  is  within  reach  of  all.  There  is  no  partiality 
with  God. 

There  are  no  arbitrary  fiats,  no  sovereign  de- 
crees of  reprobation  to  fix  the  soul's  destiny  in 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOUL  115 

starless  and  eternal  night.  God's  heaven  is  for 
all.  The  seats  beside  the  throne  of  the  infinite 
are  accessible  to  man  ;  yet  God  is  powerless  to 
put  us  there.  He  can  provide  salvation.  He 
can  unveil  His  face  and  reveal  His  heart,  and 
call.  All  this  He  does,  but  the  heights  of  spirit-  - 
ual  attainment  are  actually  occupied  by  those 
who  have  achieved  them. 

The  Prepared 

The  heights  are  for  those  for  whom  they  have 
been  prepared  ;  for  those  who  are  fitted  to  occupy 
them  ;  for  those  who  have  the  character,  the 
spiritual  stature  great  enough  to  entitle  them  to 
stand  beside  the  Lord  in  glory.  '^Heaven,"  as 
an  old  minister  used  to  say,  "  is  a  prepared  place 
for  a  prepared  people." 

Jesus  said,  "  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you," 
but  the  people  who  occupy  it  must  prepare  for 
the  place  that  has  been  prepared  for  them.  Are 
there  degrees  in  heaven  1  There  is  nothing  but 
degrees.  In  the  kingdom  of  Eedemption,  there 
is  no  mechanical  standard,  no  doctrine  of  the 
minimum  wage,  chaining  genius  to  the  heels  of 
mediocrity  or  boosting  indolence  to  the  throne 
of  merit.  The  people  who  go  to  heaven  must  be 
ready  for  it. 

Cardinal  Newman  says  :  "  If  a  man  without 
religion  (supposing  it  possible)  were  admitted 
into  heaven,  doubtless  he  would  sustain  a  gi-eat 
disappointment.  .  .  .  He  would  perceive 
himself  to  be  an  isolated  being,  cut  away  by 


'1 


116  TENDENCY 

Supreme  Power  from  those  objects  which  were 
still  entwiued  about  his  heart.  Nay,  he  would 
be  in  the  presence  of  that  Supreme  Power,  whom 
he  never  on  earth  could  bring  himself  steadily  to 
think  upon,  and  whom  he  now  regards  only  as 
the  destroyer  of  all  that  was  precious  and  dear  to 
him.  .  .  .  Heaven  is  not  a  place  of  happi- 
ness except  to  the  holy. 

''Nay,  I  will  ventui-e  to  say  more  than  this; 
—it  is  fearful  but  it  is  right  to  say  it— that  if  we 
wished  to  imagine  a  punishment  for  an  unholy, 
reprobate  soul,  we  perhaps  could  not  fancy  a 
greater  than  to  summon  it  to  heaven.  Heaven 
would  be  hell  to  an  irreligious  man. 

*'  God  cannot  change  His  nature,  holy  He  must 
ever  be  ;  but  while  He  is  holy,  no  unholy  soul 
can  be  happy  in  heaven. 

"Fire  does  not  inflame  iron,  but  inflames 
straw.  It  would  cease  to  be  fire  if  it  did  not. 
And  so  heaven  itself  would  be  fire  to  those  who 
would  fain  escape  across  the  great  gulf  from  the 
torments  of  hell."  ^ 

This  is  true  of  every  spiritual  experience  and 
attainment.  The  soul  does  not  wear  happiness 
as  the  body  wears  clothes.  Spiritual  excellence 
is  not  handed  down  ready  made,  but  must  be 
'I  wrought  out.  Heaven  must  be  within  us,  before 
it  can  ever  be  around  us. 

The  soul  is  not  hoisted  into  glory.     It  grows, 
is  developed,  evolved,    prepared.     Salvation  is 
not  a  finished  product,  manufactured  in  heaven, 
^  "  Parochial  Sermons." 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOUL  117 

and  marketed  to  those  who  pay  the  price.  It  is 
not  a  crowu  to  be  worn  or  a  sceptre  to  be  wielded 
or  a  harp  to  be  played.  It  is  a  germ  of  divine 
life  imparted.  As  this  germ  develops,  it  goes 
through  all  the  processes  and  obeys  all  the  laws 
of  growth. 

We  are  familiar  with  the  phenomena  of  growth 
in  physical,  mental,  social  and  moral  values. 
We  know  that  nothing  that  is  worth  while  jumps, 
in  a  single  spasm,  to  full  fruition ;  or  leaps  at  one 
bound  from  conception  to  maturity.  There  must 
be  a  long  process  of  toil  and  struggle,  of  hope  and 
travail,  of  effort  and  failure  and  renewed  effort, 
until  through  it  all,  at  last,  something  emerges 
that  carries  in  itself  the  stain  of  every  surrender 
and  the  glory  token  of  every  struggle. 

It  is  thus  in  the  lower  realms  of  being.  When 
we  enter  the  spiritual,  is  all  this  to  be  reversed  ? 
Are  we  to  imagine  that  soulhood  or  spiritual  ex- 
cellence is  to  be  handed  down  ready  made  f  Are 
we  to  go  to  God,  as  James  and  John  went  to 
Christ,  and  say  :  *'  Give  it  to  me  ; — faith,  hope, 
love,  holiness,  usefulness,  peace,  happiness — 
Thou  hast  all  this.  Give  it  to  me.  Bestow  upon 
me,  O  Lord,  a  great  soul,  complete,  with  charac- 
ter and  capacity  and  vision  and  sainthood  quali- 
fied to  sit  on  the  throne  of  the  highest." 

It  is  not  God's  to  give.  It  is  for  those  for 
whom  it  has  been  prepared.  It  must  be  achieved. ' 
Nowhere  are  the  facts  of  growth  so  conspicuous, 
the  processes  of  development  so  wonderful,  the 
struggle  to  become  so  long  and  difficult,  the  op- 


h 


118  TENDENCY 

position  so  fierce  and  persistent,  the  prize  so 
precious,  the  goal  so  imperishable  as  in  the  mak- 
ing of  a  soul. 

The  Peocess 

All  the  comedies  and  tragedies  of  life  are 
packed  into  this  process.  There  is  no  greater 
sight  than  this  of  a  human  life  achieving  the 
spiritual.  It  is  a  battle  with  grim  spectres,  a 
desperate  struggle  with  the  flesh,  a  constant  fight 
with  temptation.  It  calls  for  self-denial,  forti- 
tude, patience,  hope,  daring,  perseverance  and  a 
daily  dying  ;  but  through  it  all,  the  soul  grows. 
It  acquires  vigour,  power,  vision,  responsiveness, 
capacity.  Its  earthly  estate  may  dwindle,  but  it 
is  clinging  to  the  eternal  and  daily  buildiug  a 
statelier  mansion.  It  is  slow  and  stern  and  often 
disappointing  but  it  is  the  only  way  to  glory. 

The  process  is  largely  in  the  hands  of  the  indi- 
vidual. Salvation,  in  a  measure,  is  provided  and 
conferred,  but  the  individual  must  work  it  out  in 
his  experience,  if  he  is  really  to  possess  it. 

Among  the  means  of  grace  or  the  agencies  of 
growth  is  prayer.  Prayer  is  not  merely  what  one 
says.  It  is  spiritual  receptivity.  It  is  the  soul 
feeding  on  the  infinite.  It  is  to  the  soul  what  air 
and  sunshine  are  to  the  body.  It  is  the  spiritual 
laying  hold  of  the  materials  out  of  which  it  is  to 
build  itself  into  the  divine  likeness. 

Work  is  another  of  the  means  of  grace.  The 
question  of  work  is  not  a  question  of  wages.  It 
is  something  more  than  a  question  of  service. 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOUL  110 

It  is  the  active  side  of  spiritual  development.  It 
is  the  act  by  which  one  translates  what  he  gets  in 
prayer  into  what  he  does  in  life,  and  in  this  way 
makes  it  a  part  of  himself.  Work  passes  divine 
energy  through  personality  and  in  the  process 
transforms  personality  into  the  divine  likeness. 


Suffering  is  still  another  of  the  means  of  growth.    * 
It  is  the  welding  process.     It  is  the  furnace  of 
purification.     It  is  a  way  the  soul  has  of  making 
secure  its  achievements,  and  of  retaining  only 
that  which  is  of  real  value. 

By  prayer  a  soul  comes  into  contact  with  the 
infinite,  by  work  it  passes  the  infinite  through 
the  powers  of  its  own  being,  and  by  suffering  it 
fuses  with  the  infinite. 

All  this  is  a  man's  business  here  in  time.  He 
cannot  unload  this  business  on  God.  He  cannot 
expect  God  to  pray  for  him  or  work  for  him  or 
suffer  for  him,  in  such  a  way  as  to  furnish  him 
with  exemption. 

He  must  do  it  for  himself.  This  is  his  concern. 
He  is  here  to  make  a  soul,  to  achieve  an  immortal  \^ 
part,  to  develop  an  eternal  capacity.  Whatever 
his  creed  or  church  or  calling,  his  business  is  the 
growth  of  his  spiritual  being.  All  else,  sooner  or 
later  must  fall  away, — body,  goods,  reputation — • 
only  the  soul  survives  ;  the  invisible,  intangible, 
indestructible  personality ;  and  that  goes  to  the 
place  for  which  it  is  prepared.  It  will  never  rise 
higher  than  its  own  wings  of  devotion  carry  it. 
Its  destiny  will  have  no  limitations,  save  those  fixed 
by  the  boundaries  of  its  own  spiritual  capacity. 


IX 


THE   OPEN  DOOR  AND  THE  ADVER- 
SARIES 

"  Do  not  despise  your  situation,  in  it  you  must  act,  sufEer, 
and  conquer.  From  every  point  on  earth,  we  are  equally 
near  to  heaven,  and  to  the  infinite." — AmieVs  Journal. 

' '  Tie  down  a  hero  and  he  feels  the  puncture  of  a  pin  ; 
throw  him  into  battle,  and  he  is  almost  insensible  to  pain." 
— John  C.  Calhoun. 

No  oue  ever  tried  to  become,  without  encoun- 
tering opposition.  While  they  summon,  the 
heights  also  seem  to  warn.  They  speak  of  peril 
and  difficulty. 

Every  man  who  gets  the  vision  of  a  better  life, 
if  he  will  but  look  closely,  may  see  between  him 
and  the  vision  the  face  of  foes. 

It  is  this  twofold  vision  that  Paul  had  before 
him  when,  writing  to  his  friends  at  Corinth,  he 
said,  ''  For  a  great  door  and  effectual  is  opened 
unto  me  and  there  are  many  adversaries."  ^ 

It  is  a  line  out  of  the  life  story  of  a  man  who, 
fought  by  all  that  was  worst,  did  ever  that  which 
was  best.  Any  one  who  is  familiar  with  this 
life  story  must  feel  that  when  Paul  wrote  of  ad- 
versaries, he  was  not  scared.  There  was  a  look 
in  his  face  that  meant  war,  a  note  in  his  voice 

'  1  Cor.  xvi.  9. 

X20 


THE  OPEN  DOOE  121 

that  meant  defiance,  a  gliut  in  his  eye  that  boded 
no  good  to  his  adversaries.  The  sight  of  them 
only  made  him  more  determined  to  enter  the  open 
door.  He  was  never  the  man  to  have  his  career 
shaped  by  circumstances,  but  ever  the  man  to 
shape  circumstances  to  his  career.  He  belonged 
to  that  royal  race  of  men  to  whom  opposition,  in 
the  face  of  known  duty  and  privilege,  instead  of 
hindering,  only  incites  to  invincible  heroism  and 
unconquerable  determination. 

The  men  who  win  are  not  those  who  have  no 
foes,  but  rather  those  who,  fought  by  all  that  is 
worst,  do  ever  that  which  is  best. 

The  Open  Door 

The  vision  of  the  open  door  is  the  vision  of  op- 
portunity. It  is  the  answer  to  prayer.  It  is 
one's  chance  for  something  better.  Beyond  its 
radiant  portal  lies  the  land  of  promise.  Inside 
the  door,  opportunity  waits  to  take  us  by  the 
hand  and  lead  us  on  to  the  fruition  of  all  our 
hopes  and  dreams. 

Man  is  so  constituted  that  he  must  press  on  in 
quest  of  the  better.  There  is  a  voice  within 
every  normal  human  being  that  is  ever  saying, 
"There  is  something  better  than  this  for  you. 
You  may  not  deserve  it.  You  may  be  unworthy 
of  what  you  have,  but  why  be  balked  by  lack  of 
merit,  when  the  door  of  fortune  stands  ajar? 
Somewhere  an  isle  is  waiting,  somewhere  a  crown 
is  making,  somewhere  a  kingdom  is  preparing. 
You  have  not  reached  the  summit.     Push  on  !  " 


122  TENDENCY 

This  is  the  song  of  hope.  Were  hope  to  cease 
singiug,  we  should  perish. 

Oue  may  not  always  see  the  open  door.  He 
may  go  through  life  with  his  eyes  tied  to  his  feet, 
his  soul  chained  to  his  senses  ;  like  Mary  in  the 
Garden,  on  Easter  morn,  with  the  risen  Lord  at 
her  side,  but  "  she  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus"  ; 
and  not  until  Christ  guided  her  blind  heart  as 
one  would  guide  a  blind  man,  into  the  ecstasy  of 
the  secret,  did  the  great  discovery  break  on  her. 
Thus  often  a  great  door  and  effectual  opens,  but 
we  do  not  see  it.  Heaven  is  down  at  our  door- 
step and  we  say  it  is  a  dull  day.  We  plod  on 
through  the  mire  of  things.  Opportunity  always 
has  difficulty  in  getting  itself  recognized. 

God  is  the  author  of  the  open  door.  He  does 
not  build  a  dead  wall  across  any  man's  path,  but 
a  door,  and  He  holds  and  keeps  it  open.  In  the 
Eevelation,  it  says,  "I  have  set  before  thee  a 
door  opened."  ^  That  is  true  for  every  life. 
God  is  ever  calling  us  to  something  better.  He 
is  not  trying  to  keep  us  down,  to  hold  us  back, 
to  make  us  unhappy,  to  brand  us  with  failure. 
He  is  the  God  of  the  open  door,  the  divinity  of 
opportunity. 

He  is  this  for  every  man.  One  may  doubt  or 
deny  it.  He  may  say  :  "  There  is  no  chance 
for  me.  Circumstances  are  against  me.  I  am 
doomed."  Let  him  open  his  eyes  and  look 
ahead,  for  there  is  every  chance  for  him.  At 
the  next  turn  of  the  road,  he  will  come  to  the 
'  Rev,  iii.  8. 


THE  OPEN  DOOE  123 

open  door.  Somewhere  it  exists  for  him  and  if 
be  will  but  listen,  even  now  he  may  hear  the 
voices  of  an  invisible  choir,  chanting  the  call  of 
destiny. 

The  Adversaries 

There  is  also  the  vision  of  hostility.  Oppor- 
tunity is  accompanied  by  opposition. 

It  is  always  hard  to  climb.  We  go  down  grade 
without  effort.  We  go  to  pieces  without  struggle  ; 
but  to  hold  on,  to  hold  out,  to  go  on,  to  rise,  to 
achieve,  to  overcome,  to  reign  can  never  be  with- 
out struggle  and  conflict.  There  never  was  a 
kingdom  of  any  kind  in  any  realm  of  the  phys- 
ical, mental,  moral  or  spiritual,  but  had  to  be 
fought  for. 

Before  every  open  door  the  adversaries  camp. 
The  instant  something  better  dawns  on  the 
horizon,  an  enemy  comes  into  sight.  The  adver- 
saries are  numerous.  They  are  within  and  with- 
out. We  find  them  in  the  circumstances  and 
conditions  of  life.  Sometimes  our  friends  become 
our  foes.  Sometimes  a  man's  foes  are  they  of  his 
own  household.  It  may  be  that  the  man  himself 
has  become  his  worst  enemy. 

Strange  as  it  seems,  we  must  fight  to  be  good 
and  do  right.  Why  could  not  the  opposite  have 
been  ordained  as  the  law  of  the  road  ?  Why  not 
locate  the  enemy  in  our  rear  so  that  a  man  would 
encounter  his  adversaries  when  running  away 
from  duty  ?  But  there  in  front  is  the  bristling 
line  of  spears.     Even  divinity  seems  to  be  bound 


124  TENDENCY 

by  this  law.  Wheu  Christ  came  to  save  the 
world,  although  He  came  on  the  holiest  missiou 
ever  attempted,  He  eucouutered  opposition. 
Temptation  fought  Him  at  the  threshold  of  His 
career  and  the  nearer  He  came  to  the  cross,  the 
more  iiercely  was  He  assailed.  It  is  the  law  for 
every  life.  The  instant  one  sets  his  face  towai'ds 
something  better,  he  confronts  war. 

If  a  man  is  content  to  be  a  nobody,  he  will  not 
be  disturbed.  If  he  is  satisfied  to  be  nothing  but 
putty  in  the  hands  of  fate,  the  enemy  will  not 
trouble  to  muster  even  a  corporal's  guard  against 
him.  He  is  not  worthy  the  trouble.  A  life  with- 
out ambition  and  aspiration  is  a  life  without  op- 
l)Osition,  but  if  there  be  daring  in  the  soul,  de- 
termination in  the  heart,  the  glint  of  war  in  the 
eye,  the  very  air  is  charged  with  hostility. 

Opportunity  and  Opposition 
Such  is  the  situation.  Opi)ortuuity  and  oppo- 
sition live  on  the  same  street.  They  dwell  under 
one  roof.  Wherever  there  is  the  vision  of  the 
open  door,  a  closer  scrutiny  will  detect  the  ad- 
versaries. On  the  other  hand,  whenever  one  en- 
counters persistent  opposition,  he  may  rest  as- 
sured that  not  far  away  the  door  of  privilege  and 
blessing  is  ajar. 

This  is  the  tragedy  of  daily  life.  The  things 
wo  most  desire,  are  usually  the  ones  we  must 
fight  hardest  to  acquire. 

There  is  the  matter  of  greater  simplicity  and 
less  nervous  strain  and  worry  in  the  style  of  liv- 


THE  OPEN  DOOR  125 

ing.  Complexities  multiply.  New  schemes  of 
extravagance  present  tbemselves.  We  are  the 
victims  of  our  blessings.  At  the  time  when 
emancipation  is  son;ly  needed,  we  find  the  simple 
life  most  dillicult  of  accomplishment. 

There  is  the  matter  of  personal  culture.  There 
was  never  such  an  open  door  to  education. 
Every  facility  for  self-improvement  is  oflered. 
Leviathan  universities  and  fabulously  endowed 
colleges,  that  offer  curricula  which  only  the  wise 
can  understand,  practice  the  open  door.  It 
would  seem  that  anybody  might  be  learned. 
Nevertheless,  Ijarring  that  easy  knowledge  which 
comes  from  the  hurried  perusal  of  the  morning 
paper  or  the  monthly  magazine,  it  may  be  seri- 
ously doubted  whether  culture  is  either  easier  of 
acquisition  or  more  widely  prevalent. 

There  is  the  matter  of  personal  integrity. 
There  was  never  a  time  when  an  honest  man  had 
such  an  open  door.  He  is  in  demand  every- 
where, in  business,  in  politics,  in  religion.  Un- 
purchasable,  incorruptible  manhood  commands 
the  top  of  the  market  ;  but  there  are  many  ad- 
versaries. It  is  not  easy  to  be  honest,  even  when 
one  is  dead  in  earnest  about  being  honest.  At  a 
time  when  honesty  is  one  of  life's  finest  assets,  it 
is  hardest  of  achievement.  So  much  so,  that 
many  are  skeptical  of  its  existence.  It  is  no 
longer  a  question  as  to  whether  deception  is 
wrong,  but  does  it  pay?  Can  it  win?  Has  it 
power  ? 

The  editorial  declaration  in  a  popular  New 


126  TENDENCY 

York  daily  paper,  that  a  newspaper's  chief  con- 
cern should  be  with  whatever  will  give  it  a  cir- 
culation, was  merely  the  brazen  statement  of 
what  has  become  with  many  the  real  philosophy 
of  life.  It  is  the  substitution  of  expediency  for 
honesty.  It  is  surrender  to  the  adversaries  with- 
out even  a  show  of  resistance. 

When  we  come  to  consider  matters  perhaps 
more  vital  to  the  spiritual  development  of  man, 
the  same  situation  exists. 

Faith  is  opportunity.  All  things  are  possible 
to  faith  :  Man's  supreme  need  is  an  ideal.  Only 
that  can  save  him  from  animalism.  He  must  be- 
lieve in  something  better  than  cash  and  carnality. 
Yet  faith  is  not  easy.  Doubt  is  insolent  and  ag- 
gressive. Materialism  is  always  abroad,  and  the 
man  who  would  believe  in  the  unseen  must  fight 
for  it.  One's  faith  may  not  be  much  ;  just  a 
crutch  to  a  lame  man,  but  if  it  enables  him  to 
walk  with  his  soul  in  the  air  and  his  eyes 
on  a  star,  he  would  do  well  to  fight  for  his 
crutch. 

It  is  a  day  when  that  friendly,  brotherly,  hu- 
man kind  of  life  Christ  came  to  teach  and  help 
men  to  live  is  longed  for.  The  world  is  hungry 
for  fellowship  and  yearns  for  the  pulses  of  the 
race-kin.  Yet  there  are  many  adversaries.  The 
extremes  of  life  are  increasing,  the  chasm  of  class 
widens,  the  walls  of  caste  rise  higher,  and  while 
"get  together"  is  the  word  for  the  twentieth 
century,  it  is,  as  yet,  hardly  more  than  a  word. 

A  matter  of  deeper  concern,  not  only  to  the 


THE  OPEN  DOOR  127 

Church  of  Christ,  but  to  all  meu,  is  the  world's 
evangelizatiou.  There  was  never  such  au  opeu 
door  to  Christian  missions.  Everything  con- 
spires to  make  the  present  preeminently  a  mis- 
sionary age.  The  one  problem  that  confronts 
the  Church  is  the  problem  of  the  harvest  field. 
The  condition  of  the  uon- Christian  nations  is  such 
as  to  create  the  greatest  religious  crisis  the  world 
has  ever  known. 

At  such  a  time,  Christianity  finds  itself  con- 
fronting the  most  serious  situation  it  has  ever 
faced  in  lauds  that  are  nominally  Christian,  where 
it  must  begin  again  the  fight  for  existence  and 
give  to  meu  a  new  and  better  reason  for  its  right 
to  be. 

So  that,  look  which  way  we  may,  we  find 
privilege  and  peril  living  as  close  neighbours. 

Opposition  is  Opportunity 
What  is  a  sane  procedure  when,  in  sight  of 
privilege,  peril  threatens  ?  There  are  those  who 
counsel  surrender,  who  j)refer  peace  to  heroism, 
who  look  upon  opposition  as  a  providential  bar- 
rier, and  change  their  course.  They  are  like  a 
worm  that  crawls  until  a  clod  or  stone  blocks  its 
way,  and  then  changes  its  course.  They  move 
along  the  line  of  least  resistance.  They  live  on 
the  surface  of  their  personality,  rather  than  in  its 
elemental  depths.  They  are  merely  what  the 
circumstances  of  the  moment  chance  to  make 
them. 
If  we  will  but  agree  to  surrender  privilege,  we 


128  TENDENCY 

may  escape  conflict.  All  that  tlie  adversaries  ask 
is  that  we  stay  outside  the  open  door.  As  long 
as  we  make  no  special  effort  to  enter,  they  will  let 
us  alone.  We  may  discuss  opportunity,  admire  it, 
prize  it,  feel  that  it  should  be  entered,  determine 
some  day  to  enter,  and  the  adversaries  will  con- 
gratulate us  on  our  prudence ;  but  the  moment 
we  start  to  enter,  there  is  war. 

Nevertheless  the  open  door  is  there  to  be  en- 
tered. It  is  not  there  for  spectacular  effect.  The 
right  attitude  is  that  of  conflict.  One  must  not 
surrender.  He  must  face  the  foe.  He  will  never 
get  anywhere  nor  amount  to  anything  any  other 
way.  The  people  who  have  shaped  the  history 
of  the  world  have  all  had  stormy  careers — Calvin, 
Savonarola,  Luther,  Knox.  They  all  faced  a 
gray  sky  and  spoke  of  hindi'ances,  not  with  a 
wail  or  a  moan,  but  with  a  war-cry. 

He  who  does  this  discovers  that  the  battle  is 
itself  a  blessing.  He  is  fit  to  enter  the  open  door 
only  after  he  has  fought  his  way  to  it.  No  man 
can  wear  privilege  gracefully  and  well,  who  has 
not  learned  its  worth  in  the  red  carnage  of  con- 
flict. Struggle  is  ever  the  royal  road  to  author- 
ity and  power.  It  is  not  an  accident  that  if  one 
would  rise,  he  must  climb  ;  it  is  merely  the  law 
of  a  divine  necessity. 

He  who  faces  his  adversaries  with  a  manly 
courage,  who  fights  his  battles  with  a  steady  re- 
liance on  Him  who  calls  him  through  the  red 
line  to  that  radiant  portal  beyond  which  his 
kingdom  is  waiting,  lives  to  find  that  opposition 


THE  OPEN  DOOR  129 

is  but  another  way  of  writing  opportunity.  It  is 
not  "the  open  door,  but  adversaries"  ;  it  is 
"the  open  door  and  adversaries."  They  are 
comrades. 


SEEING   THE  INVISIBLE 

"  The  teeming  air  and  prodigal, 
Which  droops  its  azure  over  all, 
Is  full  of  immortalities 
That  look  on  us  with  unseen  eyes." 

— Philip  P.  Cooke. 

■  The  secret  of  emancipation  is  a  sight  of  the 
unseen.  The  slave  is  he  who  never  looks  beyond 
his  fetters.  That  is  the  real  freeman  of  the  world 
who,  whatever  his  estate,  like  the  ancient  He- 
brew who  set  his  people  free,  ' '  endured  as  seeing 
Him  who  is  invisible."  ' 

This  is  the  sign  of  greatness  and  the  way  to 
power. 

Man  cannot  see  much  with  his  eyes,  not  be- 
cause they  are  bad,  but  because  they  are  not 
built  to  see  the  big  things,  the  real  things,  the 
eternal  and  the  infinite.  "With  his  eyes,  one  can 
see  only  the  surface,  the  shadow,  the  temporary, 
the  changing,  the  unstable,  the  things  which  ap- 
pear. If  he  is  to  rise  into  companionship  with 
God  and  be  divine,  he  must  see  the  permanent, 
the  essential,  the  abiding,  the  everlasting,  the 
invisible.  He  must  look,  not  with  his  eyes,  but 
with  his  soul.  Like  the  man  whose  vision  made 
»  Heb.  xi.  27. 
130 


SEEING  TUE  INVISIBLE  131 

him  the  leader  of  a  nation  and  the  creator  of  a 
civilization,  he  must  endure  as  seeing  Him  who  is 
unseen. 

Moses  looked  with  his  eyes  and  saw  Egypt,  its 
power,  its  wealth,  its  splendour,  its  dynasties. 
He  saw  its  throne  waiting  for  him.  He  saw  him- 
self heir  apparent  to  the  foremost  place  among 
the  rulers  of  the  world.  An  ordinary  man  would 
have  looked  no  further.  The  "seen"  would 
have  been  good  enough,  but  Moses  looked  be- 
yond Egypt  to  the  kingdom  that  was  coming ; 
the  kingdom  of  righteousness  and  truth,  of  peace 
and  good-will,  whose  throne  was  not  tinsel  like 
Egypt's,  and  whose  authority  was  supreme.  As 
he  saw  the  unseen,  his  heart  beat  faster.  He  re- 
fused "to  be  called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daugh- 
ter," or  to  be  captured  by  Egypt's  cheap  show. 

He  looked  with  his  eyes  and  saw  Israel  en- 
slaved. He  saw  his  people  downtrodden  and 
oppressed,  poor  and  despised,  smitten  and  ap- 
parently hopeless.  An  ordinary  man  would 
have  despaired.  He  would  have  said,  "Nothing 
can  be  done  with  these  dumb  slaves,"  but  Moses 
looked  beyond  the  visible  and  saw  Israel  emanci- 
pated. He  saw  the  light  of  Canaan  on  the  far 
horizon.  The  vision  stiffened  his  courage.  He 
broke  through  conventionalism,  threw  down 
worldly  ambition,  walked  out  of  the  palace  ; 
and,  setting  his  face  towards  the  desert,  began 
forty  years  of  stern  preparation  for  real  leader- 
ship. 

The  Jew  saw  what,  as  yet,  had  no  existence, 


132  TENDENCY 

save  in  the  divine  plan  and  purpose.  He  saw 
into  the  soul  of  events  and  endured.  He  never 
flinched  nor  faltered  nor  halted  nor  allowed  him- 
self to  be  dismayed. 

This  is  the  sign  of  victory. 

No  one 'ever  does  a  great  thing  who  sees  only 
the  seen,  the  present,  the  tangible,  the  evident, 
the  insistent,  the  finite.  He  must  see  the  unseen, 
the  future,  the  intangible,  the  elusive,  the  ideal, 
the  infinite.  He  must  discover,  not  that  which 
is,  but  that  which  is  to  be  ;  that  which  may  be, 
should  be,  and  which,  with  a  stout  soul  following 
hard  after  God,  must  be. 

The  builders  of  the  old  cathedrals,  which  fill 
us  with  awesome  reverence  as  we  walk  their 
stately  aisles  and  gaze  towards  their  lofty  arches, 
were  men  who  saw  the  unseen.  Those  marvellous 
piles  of  templed  reverence  and  devotion  were 
caught  out  of  the  invisible  and  dragged  down  out 
of  the  eternal  and  chained  to  stone  by  men  who 
first  saw  what  was  not  and  then  translated  their 
vision  into  shape  and  form. 

The  old  masters  were  not  sordid  materialists, 
dull  realists,  stupid  copyists,  but  men  whose 
souls  were  aglow  with  the  ecstasy  of  a  sight  no 
eye  ever  saw.  Their  canvas  flames  with  the  por- 
trayal of  the  invisible.  It  is  not  what  one  sees 
in  a  picture  that  makes  it  great;  it  is  what  he 
does  not  see.  The  true  poet,  who  brings  a  song 
out  of  the  kingdom  that  is  coming,  is  no  dull 
rhymester  of  homely  realities,  but  a  man  who  sees 
the  unseen.     The  rapturous  quality  of  a  song  is 


SEEING  THE  mVISIBLE  133 

not  what  one  hears ;  it  is  what  he  does  not  hear. 
The  divine  realm  is  ever  beyond  the  reach  of 
the  senses.  Only  he  can  invade  it  who  has  a 
soul. 

In  so  commonplace  and  unpoetic  a  thing  as  daily 
toil,  success  rests  with  him  who  looks  beyond  the 
actual  and  sees  what  he  does  not  see.  He  is  not 
content  to  plod  in  the  beaten  track,  but  discover- 
ing future  possibilities,  he  ventures  out.  He  has 
visions  and  holds  out  and  plods  on  and  persists, 
despite  short  profits,  bad  markets,  strikes,  lock- 
outs and  what  nots,  until  at  last  he  enters  his 
promised  land. 

The  inventors,  the  promoters,  the  pioneers,  the 
discoverers,  are  all  built  on  the  lines  of  faith. 
They  are  not  slow  conservatives,  holding  to  the 
old  ways  aud  saying:  ''Things  can  only  be  as 
they  have  been,"  but  prophets,  announcing  that 
things  will  be  as  they  have  never  been.  They 
have  the  vision  of  what  may  be  aud  venture  life 
and  limb,  and  risk  fortune  and  reputation  to 
make  it  good. 

Nation  builders  and  age  makers  have  all  had 
upon  their  souls  the  glow  of  the  invisible.  Egypt 
languished  for  centuries,  cursed  by  poverty, 
smitten  by  famine,  afflicted  by  pestilence,  sub- 
mitting to  the  handicap  of  uncertain  seasons, 
empty  and  full  by  turns,  because  no  one  saw  the 
unseen.  At  last  England  sent  such  a  man  in  the 
person  of  Lord  Cromer.  He  has  regulated  the 
overflow  of  the  Nile,  built  walls,  dug  canals,  con- 
structed roads,  and  given  to  that  ancient  land  of 


134  TENDENCY 

hoary  traditions,  groaning  for  centuries  under 
unnecessary  burdens,  its  great  emancipation. 

If  one  is  to  have  a  future,  he  must  quit  looking 
at  what  he  sees.  He  must  let  his  vision  range 
higher  and  farther  and  dwell  on  what  he  does  not 
see. 

In  the  realm  of  influence,  the  people  who  help 
us  are  those  who  see  not  what  we  are  but  what 
we  may  become.  No  man  ever  helped  the  world 
who  stopped  at  an  accurate  diagnosis  of  its 
troubles. 

The  parent  who  would  train  a  child  to  great- 
ness must  see  more  than  appears  in  the  child. 
He  must  look  beyond  surly  moods  and  fits  of 
temper,  beyond  wilful  disobedience  and  way- 
wardness to  the  kingdom  of  character  that  may 
be  built  up  in  the  empire  of  that  little  person- 
ality. 

This  is  God's  vision  of  man.  It  is  this  vision 
which  makes  Him  our  Father,  and  enables  Him 
to  train  us  into  His  likeness.  It  is  this  vision 
which  He  imparts  to  man,  in  the  gift  of  faith, 
and  by  means  of  which  man  is  enabled  to  come 
off  conqueror  in  all  the  conflicts  of  life. 

In  any  moral  revolution  or  battle  for  reform, 
the  people  who  bring  things  to  pass  are  those 
who  see  the  unseen. 

The  galleries  are  always  full  of  a  kind  of  sight- 
seers, who  go  into  hysterics  over  the  spectacle  of 
evil.  They  see  the  seen  in  depraved  human  so- 
ciety. They  behold  the  rampant  insolence  of 
men  whose  god  is  gain,  the  crawling  cowardice 


SEEING  THE  INVISIBLE  135 

of  men  to  whom  a  moral  issue  is  a  danger-sigual, 
the  lawlessness  aud  class  hatred  and  greed  of  men 
who  rave  about  humanity  but  whose  panegyrics 
are  blankets  to  cloak  their  own  meanness  and 
hypocrisy  of  soul. 

This  they  see  and  it  is  all  that  they  see ;  and 
seeing  it,  they  are  in  despair.  They  pronounce 
the  situation  hopeless  and  say:  "Nothing  can 
be  done.  Appetite,  lust  and  greed  will  have 
their  way.  Morals  cannot  be  legislated  into  a 
community." 

There  are,  however,  some  who  look  beyond 
the  seen.  They  are  fascinated  by  a  social  and 
civic  ideal.  They  have  faith  in  the  eternal 
principles  of  truth  aud  honour.  They  listen  far 
enough  back  to  hear  the  voice  which  thundered 
on  Sinai,  and  pleaded  on  Calvary.  They  catch 
the  enthusiasm  of  God  and  believe  in  a  better 
world.  Already  they  see  iniquity  in  defeat  and 
immorality  routed,  and  they  endure.  It  is  such 
as  these  who  sooner  or  later  will  win  the  battle 
and  save  the  day. 

It  is  preeminently  such  as  these  who  translate 
God  into  the  life  of  the  world.  No  man  would 
last  in  a  mission  field  twenty-four  hours  who  sees 
only  with  his  eyes.  The  horizon  is  banked  with 
diificulties.  Everywhere  obstacles  are  sky  high. 
All  around  are  hate,  ignorance,  sin,  the  rule  and 
riot  of  sensualism.  The  world,  the  flesh  and  the 
devil  are  in  the  majority.  Any  one  who  stops 
with  the  sight  of  this  is  bound  to  be  discouraged. 
He  must  look  beyond  aud  see  with  his  soul  and 


136  TENDENCY 

catch  the  vision  of  the  chariots  of  the  Lord. 
Then  victory  is  sure. 

Indeed,  the  acquisition  of  God  is  not  possible 
without  this  vision,  for  all  who  come  to  Him 
must  believe  that  He  is  and  that  He  is  the  re- 
warder  of  them  that  diligently  seek  Him. 

Doubt  is  easy.  It  is  simply  looking  at  what  is 
seen  and  saying  :  "  There  is  no  God  in  sight,  no 
immortality,  nothing  but  an  ancient  dogma  and 
some  pious  dupes  whose  weak  ways  may  please 
heaven,  but  cannot  mislead  earth.  Faith  is 
foolish." 

It  is  simply  a  case  of  bad  eyes.  The  doubter  is 
of  a  kind  with  the  blind  man  who  does  not  be- 
lieve in  sunsets  he  has  never  seen ;  with  the  deaf 
man  who  does  not  believe  in  music  he  has  never 
heard. 

There  is  the  unseen.  Why  not  look  at  that  f 
There  are  truth,  honour,  love,  divine  compassion. 
Why  not  look  at  these  ?  Because  one  does  not 
see  them  is  no  reason  he  should  doubt  their  exist- 
ence. They  are  the  great  realities.  The  trouble 
is  not  with  religion  but  with  eyes. 

Any  one  who  seeks  the  upper  path  will  find 
much  to  hinder, — temptation,  hardship,  priva- 
tion, disappointment.  There  they  are  in  the  way 
and  anybody  can  see  them.  When  one  stops  to 
consider  them,  they  look  twice  the  size  they  are ; 
and  if  he  look  no  further,  courage  will  die. 

Let  him  look  through  them  and  beyond  them, 
to  the  everlasting  hills,  to  the  fadeless  beauty  on 
the  infinite  sky,  to  God  and  the  victors  whose 


SEEING  THE  INVISIBLE  137 

shouts  ali-eady  resound  from  the  sublime  battle- 
ments, and  endui'e.  Some  fair  morning  the  night 
will  end,  the  dark  change  to  day,  the  invisible 
emerge  from  its  web  of  mist  and  shadow,  and  the 
soul  have  its  great  emancipation.  Having  en- 
dured as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible,  he  shall  at 
last  see  Him  face  to  face  and  know  as  he  is 
known. 


XI 
THE  SUCCESS  OF  FAILURE 

"  Massena  was  not  himself  until  the  battle  began  to  go 
against  him. ' ' — Napoleon  Bonaparte. 

"We  can  fix  our  eyes  on  perfection,  and  make  almost 
everything  speed  towards  it," — Channing. 

Failure  is  not  always  defeat  in  the  struggle  of 

J    life.     It  is  not  the  worst  thing  that  can  befall  us. 

P    It  is  far  worse  to  succeed  through  dishonour  than 

to  fail  because  of  steadfast  allegiance  to  principle. 

One  is  not  necessarily  beaten  when  the  crowd 
hisses.  He  is  not  conquered  because  he  is 
crushed.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  the  success  of 
failure.  We  should  not  lose  heart  and  fling 
courage  away  because  life  seems  one  unbroken 
succession  of  failures.  Our  defeats  may  turn  out 
^  Ho  be  our  real  victories. 

History  abounds  with  illustrations  of  the  suc- 
cess of  failure.  The  heroes,  at  whose  shrine  a 
nation  worships,  are  usually  those  it  has  crucified. 
The  people  we  would  immortalize,  we  first  put  to 
death.  The  men  we  honour  longest,  are  not  al- 
ways those  we  honoured  most  when  living.  They 
are  frequently  those  we  treated  worst  and  whose 
careers  seemed  to  go  out  in  the  blackness  of  the 
night  of  defeat.  England  beheaded  Charles  the 
First,  and  France  burjied  Joan  of  Arc.  Wash- 
138 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  FAILUEE         139 

ington  aud  Lincoln  are  far  more  popular  to-day 
than  they  ever  were  while  living. 

The  quickest  road  to  immortality  is  not  im- 
mediate success.     If  one  would  live  forever  in  the 
memory  of  his  fellow  men,  let  him  get  himself  - 
put  to  death  for  something.     The  world  makes  | 
its  heroes  out  of  those  who  love  a  cause  well   1 
enough  to  fail  for  it ;  if  need  be,  to  die  for  it.     It 
is  in  the  moment  of  apparent  failure  and  defeat 
that  the  man  who  dies  for  a  cause  is  really 
strongest.     It  is  not  an  idle  warning  that  says, 
' '  Beware  when  all  men  speak  well  of  you. ' '     The 
man  who  never  provokes  opposition  or  arouses    ; 
antagonism,  who  leaves  events  as  placid  a  pond  [  i 
as  he  found  them,  has  his  title  clear  to  a  swift 
and  merited  oblivion. 

The  successful  cause  is  not  always  that  which 
has  the  largest  following.     A  cause  may  be  dead 
and  still  muster  a  majority.     Some  people  never   . 
read  the  death  notices.     A  dogma  may  be  as  life-  * ; 
less  as  the  dust  of  a  mummy,  and  still  get  itself 
recited  in  the  creeds  of  the  monkey  multitude. 

The  cause  which  succeeds  is  that  which  can 
capture  the  imagination  and  enlist  followers  who 
are  willing  to  die  for  it.  The  cause  itself  may 
not  be  the  best,  but  if  people  love  it  enough  to 
fail  for  it,  it  is  not  only  alive  but  heir  to  the 
throne.  The  real  enthusiasts  of  the  world  are 
these,  aud  these  alone  have  power  to  wake  the 
dead. 

Perhaps  the  most  illustrious  illustration  history 
affords  of  the  success  of  failure  is  Jesus  of  Naz- 


140  TENDENCY 

ereth.  His  disciples  talked  mournfully  about  His 
death  and  said  :  ' '  We  hoped  that  it  was  He  who 
should  redeem  Israel. ' ' ' 

They  felt  that  their  leader  had  failed  and  that 
His  failure  was  complete,  and  they  were  dis- 
couraged. Not  a  shred  of  hope  was  left  to  hold 
them  in  from  despair,  not  a  star  was  shining  in 
the  sable  sky  that  shrouded  their  night  of  disap- 
pointment. They  had  hoped,  but  they  have 
ceased  to  hope.  Hope  is  dead.  Their  prospects 
have  suddenly  shunted  into  a  blind  alley  ;  and 
'  the  career  which  a  while  ago  looked  out  upon  a 
radiant  future,  along  vistas  arched  with  promise 
and  lit  with  glory,  ends  as  abruptly  as  it  began. 

Their  creed  has  become  a  dirge.  Not  a  note 
of  triumph,  not  a  shout  of  courage  is  anywhere 
to  be  heard.  Their  cause  has  found  its  tomb, 
for  their  hero  has  failed  and  their  god  is  dead. 

Jesus'  disciples  were  not  alone  in  their  inter- 
pretation of  Calvary.  His  enemies  felt  that  the 
I  cross  had  finished  a  troublesome  fanatic.  The 
general  public  regarded  the  incident  as  closed. 
',  After  a  brilliant,  meteoric  flash  across  the  sky, 
the  revolutionary  Eabbi  disappears  and  there  are 
no  trailing  clouds  of  glory  left  behind. 

All  the  circumstances  of  the  occasion  seemed  to 
confirm  the  general  verdict.  We  now  halo 
Calvary  in  the  love  light  of  religious  reverence. 
As  we  look  back,  we  seem  to  see  it  aflame  with 
the  glory  of  the  Infinite.  We  interpret  that 
transaction  by  subsequent  events,  and  give  to 
*  Luke  xxiv.  21. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  FAILUEE         141 

that  brief  stage  eternal  counsels  and  purposes  for 
a  background. 

In  reality,  there  was  no  halo  there,  no  light  of 
the  infinite  giving  to  Calvary  a  supernatural 
transfiguration.  Everything  was  mean  and 
shabby.  A  troublesome  peasant  who  had  defied 
the  authorities  and  been  run  down  by  the  officers 
was  being  legally  executed.  Whether  justly  or 
unjustly  was  a  matter  of  little  concern.  The  man 
was  dead.  He  had  been  put  out  of  the  way. 
The  circumstances  of  the  crucifixion  branded  Je- 
sus with  failure. 

Jesus  seemed  Himself  to  assent  to  this  conclu. 
sion.  He  ceased  to  struggle.  As  He  hung  there 
on  the  cross.  He  was  the  picture  of  weakness. 
No  light  of  courage  shone  in  His  eye,  no  flush  of 
hope  mantled  His  face.  His  voice  is  broken  with 
defeat.  The  old  ring  of  triumph  and  leadership 
is  gone.  He  admits  that  God  has  deserted  Him. 
In  despair,  He  sobs:  "  It  is  finished."  He  can 
do  no  more.  He  has  acknowledged  defeat  and 
fallen  back  into  the  void  to  be  swallowed  up  of 
that  gloom  which  gives  a  grave  to  aU  the  wrecks 
and  failures  of  time.  It  is  the  death  of  hope,  the 
failure  of  divinity,  the  burial  of  God.  From  the 
view-point  of  the  senses,  there  is  no  appeal  from 
this  verdict.  Jesns  failed.  He  talked  of  a  king- 
dom, but  it  was  the  farce  of  power.  He  spent 
His  life  getting  followers,  but  at  His  death,  there 
were  scarcely  enough  for  pallbearers,  and  at  the 
first  danger-signal  they  forsook  Him  and  fled. 
He  spoke  of  saving  the  people,  but  could  not 


142  TENDENCY 

save  Himself.     Merely  to    say  that  Jesus  failed 

is,  from  the  human  standpoint,  to  be  generous  to 

the  memory  of  Jesus.     It  is  to  render  a  merciful 

verdict. 

Nevertheless,  if  there  be  one  thing  absolutely 

n  certain  to- day,  it  is  that  Christ's  failure  was  His 

I   real  success.     The  victory  was  going  on  under 

[   the  very  eyes  of  His  disciples,  but  they  lacked 

{   the  vision  to  see  it.     They  saw  only  the  dust  of 

the  fearful  conflict  and  concluded  that  their  leader 

was  defeated. 

The  fact  is  there  was  never  so  complete  a  vic- 
tory. None  ever  succeeded  so  well  as  Jesus  of 
Nazareth.  When  one  thinks  of  the  way  He 
started  and  then  of  the  dimensions  to  which  His 
following  has  grown,  when  he  tries  to  tabulate  in 
statistics  the  results  of  Calvary  and  estimate  the 
(power  of  the  cross  among  mankind,  he  is  dis- 
I  posed  to  rank  Jesus  as  the  most  successful  leader 
in  all  human  history. 

Not  only  so,  but  if  we  are  to  name  the  crisis 

hour  of  His  career,  it  was  there  on  the  cross,  as 

He  hung  dying.     When  failure  seemed  absolute, 

then    triumph   was  most  secure.     When  defeat 

''seemed  irretrievable,  His  cause  was  unconquer- 

,  able. 

It  was  there,  in  His  death  hour,  that  He  met 
and  vanquished  the  last  and  worst  of  foes.  When 
He. said  ''  It  is  finished,"  He  said  it  not  as  a  wail 
of  defeat,  but  as  the  shout  of  victory.  This  was 
the  Saviour's  real  view  of  the  situation.  He 
never,  for  a  moment,   wavered.      He  knew  the 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  FAILURE         143 

world  thought  He  was  failing  and  perhaps  that)^ 
was  the  hardest  thing  He  had  to  stand.  The 
sting  of  failure  is  this.  It  is  hard  to  hold  out 
when  you  feel  that  others  have  lost  confidence  iu 
you.  But  Christ  did  not  falter.  He  knew  that 
He  was  right.  He  had  not  the  slightest  doubt 
about  the  worth  of  dying.  He  loved  His  cause 
well  enough  to  die  for  it.  He  was  willing  for 
time  to  write  "  failure  "  over  His  career,  and  for 
His  best  friends  to  say  :  "  We  hoped  that  it  was 
He  who  should  redeem  Israel  "  ;  for  even  as  they 
said  it  He  was  by  their  side  again,  risen  from 
the  grave,  the  triumphant  refutation  of  all  their 
fears. 

The  leaders  of  the  world  are  those  who  are 
strong  enough  to  seem  to  fail.  Instead  of  wor- 
shipping appearances  and  judging  eternity  by 
snap-shots,  they  catch  the  vision  of  that  divinity 
which  may  consecrate  and  halo  a  failure. 

We  are  not  to  conclude  that  failure  is  essential 
to  success.  This  doctrine  of  the  success  of  failure 
is  not  a  gospel  to  comfort  shabby  mediocrity  and 
indolent  self-indulgence.  It  is  not  an  easy  road 
to  self-esteem  for  the  riffraff  of  society.  Because 
one  tries  and  fails,  he  is  not  to  put  himself  on  the 
honour  roll,  with  the  reflection  that  he  has  gotten 
into  the  hero  and  martyr  class.  One  should  never 
be  satisfied  with  failure.  Indeed  he  must  be  un- 
willing to  fail.  A  true  soul  finds  failure  a  fear- 
ful ordeal.  God  would  have  us  believe  that  fail- 
ure is  impossible  for  one  who  is  faithful  to  duty  \ 
for  it  is  impossible.     Truth  is  never  conquered. 


144  TENDENCY 

It  always  falls  to  rise  again.  Duty  is  forever  in- 
vincible. 

Certainly  one  is  not  to  make  an  excuse  of  fail- 
ure. It  is  no  cloak  for  cowardice.  He  is  very 
far  from  being  either  a  hero  or  a  martyr  who 
says  :  "  I  have  failed.  Therefore  nothing  more 
can  be  expected  of  me."  There  are  people  who 
have  failed  and  thank  God  they  have.  They  are 
through  with  a  disagreeable  task.  To  such,  fail- 
ure is  not  a  halo  of  glory  but  a  brand  of  infamy. 
The  failure  which  is  sacramental  is  his  who  fails 
in  the  line  of  duty.  The  world  calls  it  defeat, 
but  the  Eecording  Angel  enters  it  as  victory. 
As  the  years  roll  on  and  the  mists  clear  and 
events  shape  themselves  aright,  it  is  seen  that 
every  stand  for  truth,  every  testimony  for  honour, 
every  death  for  duty  was  triumphant. 

Let  the  man  who  has  failed  in  the  path  of  duty 
study  his  failures  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  Let 
him  sun  his  dying,  withered  hope  in  the  light 
of  Calvary,  and  he  will  find  the  sere  leaves  grow 
green  again  and  winter  turn  to  spring.  He  will 
learn  that  failure  is  not  necessarily  defeat  and  he 
will  come  to  love  duty  enough  to  fail  for  sake 
of  it. 

The  failures  of  such  an  one  are  eternal  assets. 
They  are  divine  values. 

It  was  about  the  time  Moses  said  :  ''I  am  a 
failure,"  that  he  became  of  some  account  to  God. 
It  was  when  Jacob  gave  up  as  a  wrestler,  that  he 
prevailed.  It  is  the  stoop  of  the  soul  that  re- 
news it.     It  is  through  the  defeats  and  failures 


THE  SUCCESS  OP  FAILURE         145 

encountered  iu  the  line  of  duty,  that  the  divine 
character  is  imparted  and  developed.  Struggle 
brings  us  nearer  to  the  heart  of  God. 

He  who  has  learned  this  begins  to  live  in  a 
divine  way,  for  he  worships  a  God  who  is  not 
thinking  of  the  gross  earnings  of  his  life,  the  bulk 
of  his  happiness,  the  utensils  of  his  comfort,  the 
statistics  of  his  position  ;  but  who  is  thinking  of 
him  and  would  give  him  a  soul  of  courage  and  a 
heart  of  faith  ;  and  that  in  the  old  way.  He 
takes  him  through  Gethsemane  and  out  to  Cal- 
vary. He  lets  him  fail,  but  his  grave  is  not  his 
tomb.     It  is  his  throne. 


XII 

A  FACE  TOWARDS  THE  MORNING 

"He  ouly  is  advancing  in  life,  whose  heart  is  getting 
softer,  whose  blood  warmer,  whose  brain  quicker,  whose 
spirit  is  entering  into  living  peace.  And  the  men  who  have 
this  life  in  them  are  the  true  lords  or  kings  of  the  earth — 
they,  and  they  only." — John  Buskin. 

No  religion  is  of  much  account  that  fails  to 
strike  a  note  of  optimism.  The  creed  that  does 
not  declare  for  a  sj)irit  of  cheerfulness  is  defect- 
ive. The  doctrine  that  puts  a  premium  on 
gloom  is  a  dangerous  heresy. 

People  whose  lives  are  developing  in  a  divine 
direction  are  people  with  their  faces  towards  the 
morning.  They  have  caught  on  their  souls  the 
light  that  transfigures. 

It  is  a  significant  statement  Paul  makes  in  his 
second  letter  to  the  church  in  Corinth  when  he 
says:  "I  determined  this  with  myself,  that  I 
would  not  come  again  to  you  in  heaviness."  ' 

After  a  season  of  serious  reflection,  he  has 
reached  the  conclusion  that  it  is  his  duty  to  be 
cheerful.  He  has  tried  the  other  plan  and  found 
it  unsatisfactory.  He  says  he  is  coming  to 
Corinth  ''again."  He  had  gone  once  before  in 
heaviness.  He  had  visited  the  city,  with  a  dole- 
ful countenance.     He  had  gone  cast  down  and 

'  2  Cor.  ii.  1. 

146 


A  FACE  TOWARDS  THE  MORNING    147 

oppressed.  His  reception  was  not  eucouraging. 
The  people  seemed  sorry  to  see  liiiu.  The  au- 
diences were  small.  The  congregations  were  not 
responsive.  There  seemed  to  be  no  great  demand 
in  Corinth  for  a  preacher  whose  sermon  was  a  wail. 

He  has  learned  his  lesson.  He  has  discovered 
the  calamity  of  gloom,  the  worthlessness  of  pes- 
simism, the  disaster  of  heaviness.  He  says  :  "I 
will  never  do  it  again.  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  this.  I  have  finished  with  the  religion  of  de- 
pression. It  is  without  value.  It  lacks  power. 
It  has  no  message.     It  defeats  itself." 

He  does  not  mean  that  there  was  nothing  to 
make  him  heavy-hearted.  He  is  not  saying  that 
everything  was  as  it  should  be,  that  the  church 
was  perfect  and  every  believer  faithful,  and  that 
there  were  no  divisions  nor  scandals  among  the 
Corinthian  Christians.  He  was  not  a  fool.  He 
knew  there  was  plenty  of  material  for  gloom. 
He  knew  well  enough  there  were  things  to  dis- 
courage and  change  cheer  to  pessimism,  but  he 
says  :  ''I  will  not  allow  these  things  to  depress f\ 
me.  There  is  another  side  and  I  am  looking  at  » 
that.  MTien  I  come  again  you  may  expect  me  to 
wear  a  smile.  You  will  find  me  in  good  spirits, 
for  I  have  determined  this  with  myself  that  I 
will  not  come  again  to  you  in  heaviness." 

It  is  not  necessary  to  be  heavy-hearted  in 
order  to  maintain  a  reputation  for  piety.  One 
need  not  wear  a  sad  countenance  to  prove  oneself 
of  the  number  of  the  elect. 

This  thing  of  loading  down  religion  with  heavi- 


148  TEimENCT 

ness  is  a  mistake.  This  way  of  striking  from  the 
saint's  calendar  all  gay  moods  and  festal  occa- 
sions is  wicked.  Gloom  commands  no  premium. 
Its  stock  is  always  at  a  discount.  Over  against 
the  religion  of  depression  let  us  place  the  religion 
of  cheerfulness.  It  is  a  good  religion,  whether 
we  be  preachers  with  churches,  or  teachers  with 
schools,  or  parents  with  children,  or  doctors  with 
patients,  or  lawyers  with  clients,  or  merchants 
with  customers.  Whatever  one's  work,  let  him 
live  with  his  face  towards  the  morning. 

Cheerfulness  is  a  Duty 
Beginning  at  the  bottom  and  considering  the 
subject  on  the  lowest  plane,  cheerfulness  is  a 
duty.  It  is  an  obligation.  It  is  something  we 
owe.  There  are  certain  things  we  ought  to  be, 
such  as  honest,  just,  pure,  kind.  Among  these 
things  we  ought  to  be  is  a  strain  called  ''  cheer- 
fulness." It  may  not  have  occurred  to  a  man 
that  he  is  as  morally  bound  to  be  cheerful  as  he 
is  to  be  honest.  If  not,  it  is  because  he  has  not 
gone  very  far  in  the  study  of  morals. 

Cheerfulness  is  a  duty  we  owe  to  others.  I 
have  no  more  right  to  unload  my  nasty  moods 
and  ugly  humours  on  an  unoffending  public  than 
I  have  to  throw  my  garbage  into  my  neighbour's 
back  yard.  It  is  the  quintessence  of  selfishness 
for  a  man  to  come  from  business  sour  and  cross 
and  ill-tempered,  and  to  inject  all  his  infelicity 
into  the  stream  of  domestic  life.  It  is  a  gross  in- 
justice for  a  teacher  to  unload  her  nerves  on  the 


A  FACE  TOWARDS  THE  MORNING    149 

iuuocent  beads  of  her  pupils.  It  is  a  strategic 
blunder  for  a  preacher  who  falls  down  to  try  to  t 
comfort  himself  by  seorchiug  his  cougregatiou.  ' 
Each  of  us  has  enough  of  his  own  that  is  dis- 
agreeable, without  being  loaded  down  with  his 
neighbour's.  It  is  oui-  duty  to  add  something  to 
the  light  of  the  world,  rather  than  to  increase  its 
darkness. 

Cheerfulness  is  a  duty  we  owe  to  ourselves. 
Self-interest  calls  for  cheerful  moods.  No  one 
can  do  his  best  who  surrenders  to  gloom.  This 
way  of  seeing  all  the  difficulties  and  sleeping 
with  all  the  troubles  and  carrying  all  the  burdens, 
unfits  for  life.  It  has  been  the  ruin  of  many  a 
career.  Many  a  man  has  gone  to  pieces  for  no. 
other  reason  than  that  he  insisted  on  heaviness.  \ 
Gloom  makes  everything  harder.  The  story  is 
told  of  a  little  girl  who  was  at  dinner,  and  just  as 
she  raised  the  spoon  to  her  lips  it  was  flooded 
with  golden  sunlight,  pouring  through  a  western 
window.  As  she  took  the  spoon  from  her  mouth 
she  said,  ''Mamma,  I  have  swallowed  a  whole 
spoonful  of  sunshine. ' '  Many  would  be  improved 
by  a  little  sunshine  on  the  daily  bill  of  fare. 
Sweetness  and  light  will  improve  any  disposition. 

Cheerfulness  is  also  a  duty  we  owe  our  work, 
our  profession,  our  business,  the  vocation  in 
which  we  are  investing  our  life.  Whatever  it 
may  be,  it  deserves  enthusiastic  espousal.  If  we 
are  not  enthusiastic  over  it,  who  will  be  ?  If  we 
go  around  sighing  about  the  heavy  and  depress- 
ing character  of  our  life-work,  people  will  have 


150  TENDENCY 

uo  respect  for  either  it  or  us.  We  should  give  to 
it  our  best  and  let  it  fill  us  with  light  aud  hope. 

By  all  means  cheerfulness  is  a  duty  we  owe  our 
Maker.  This  is  God's  world  and  it  is  as  beauti- 
ful a  world  as  the  Deity  could  make.  The  provi- 
sion for  our  comfort  is  God's  product  and  it  is 
ample.  Why  should  the  children  of  a  king  go 
mourning  all  their  days  ?  If  we  are  Christians, 
we  owe  it  to  Christ  that  we  be  cheerful  Christians. 
If  He  can  do  uo  more  for  us  than  make  us  wail 
aud  look  dejected,  there  will  be  little  encourage- 
ment for  those  who  are  already  dejected  to  turn  to 
j  Christ  for  relief.  Christ  did  not  say  to  His  dis- 
fciples,  "  Ye  are  the  clouds  of  the  world,  the  gloom 
of  the  world,  the  dejection  of  the  world,"  but  "Ye 
are  the  light  of  the  world."  "Let  your  light  so 
shine  before  men  that  they  may  see  your  good 
works  and  glorify  your  Faiher  which  is  in 
heaven." 

But  this  i)lane  of  duty  is  the  lowest  from  which 
to  discuss  the  subject.  The  poorest  thing  to  be 
said  about  cheerfulness  is  that  it  is  a  duty. 

Cheerfulness  is  a  Privilege 
Privilege  is  better  than  duty.  Duties  are  what 
we  are  obligated  to  do,  privileges  are  what  we  are 
permitted  to  do.  Our  privileges  are  our  treasures. 
They  are  the  things  we  seek.  They  enrich  and 
beautify  and  bless  and  transform.  Among  our 
privileges  is  cheerfulness  and  without  it  one  can- 
not be  truly  happy. 

It  is  not  the  absence  of  seriousness.     It  is  not  to 


A  FACE  TOWAEDS  THE  MOENING    151 

be  coufounded  with  flippancy.  It  does  uot  mean 
that  one  must  give  up  his  convictions  and  take  a 
shallow  view  of  life.  His  optimism  is  uot  to  be 
like  that  of  the  ostrich  which  tucks  its  head 
under  its  wings  when  pursued  and  imagines  that 
its  enemy  has  ceased  to  exist  because  no  longer 
seen.  Indeed  one  must  see  all  that  is  hostile. 
The  true  optimist  takes  the  most  serious  view  of 
life  and  for  this  very  reason  is  convinced  that  he 
must  be  cheerful.  He  is  saying  "I  must  be 
cheerful.  I  cannot  stand  these  things  in  any 
other  way.  If  I  am  to  live  and  win,  I  must  move 
from  the  swamps  to  the  heights.  I  must  ascend 
to  privileges." 

This  is  the  way  the  Bible  looks  at  the  subject. 
It  does  not  regard  cheerfulness  as  a  duty  but 
rather  as  a  privilege.  The  three  great  occasions; 
in  the  Jewish  year  were  the  feasts.  They  were  I 
the  times  of  choicest  and  greatest  religious  privi- 
lege, but  they  were  festival  events.  The  people 
did  not  go  around  with  doleful  countenances, 
chanting  a  dirge,  but  with  hosannas  of  praise  and 
hallelujahs  of  thanksgiving. 

Cheerfulness  enables  us  to  enjoy  life.  It 
doubles  every  blessing.  One  may  have  all  the 
material  for  happiness,  but  if  he  lack  cheerful- 
ness, it  profits  him  nothing.  He  may  have 
friends  and  home  and  wealth  and  the  oppor- 
tunities for  travel  and  the  gratification  of  his 
tastes,  but  if  he  be  without  clieerfuluess,  they 
will  profit  him  nothing.  Of  all  the  moods  of  the 
contented  life,  cheerfulness  is  greatest, 


152  TENDENCY 

It  puts  tlie  soul  in  tune.  It  gives  the  spirit 
harmony  and  grace.  It  is  the  music  of  existence. 
The  poet  Carpaui  asked  Haydn  why  his  church 
music  was  so  cheerful.  Haydn  replied  :  "I  can- 
not make  it  otherwise.  I  write  according  to  the 
thoughts  I  feel ;  when  I  think  upon  God,  my 
heart  is  so  full  of  joy  that  the  notes  dance  and 
leap,  as  it  were,  from  my  pen  ;  and  since  God  has 
given  me  a  cheerful  heart,  it  wiU  be  pardoned  me 
that  I  serve  Him  with  a  cheerful  spirit." 

A  cheerful  heart  not  only  sees  and  hears  the 
beauty  of  the  world,  but  sings  it.  Cheerfulness 
affects  everything ;  and  all  it  touches,  it  makes 
beautiful.  Sometimes  you  have  seen  a  face  whose 
features  were  homely.  There  was  not  a  line  of 
grace  in  the  countenance,  but  there  was  a  look  in 
the  face  that  delighted  you.  There  was  an  ex- 
pression that  transformed  the  homely  features 
and  filled  the  countenance  with  beauty.  It  was 
the  shining  out  of  a  cheerful  soul. 

Why  be  moody  and  morose  when  we  may  be 
cheerful  ?  Why  stay  in  the  swamps  and  be 
choked  by  the  fogs  and  poisoned  by  the  rank 
vapours  of  the  marshes,  when  the  sun-kissed 
heights  are  open  ? 

Cheerfulness  is  something  more  than  duty  ;  it 
is  something  higher  even  than  privilege. 

Cheerfulness  is  Power 
If  we  are  out  for  power,  if  we  are  unwilling  to 
reduce  our  capital,  we  must  be  cheerful.     Cheer- 
fulness doubles  the  effectiveness  of  personality. 


A  FACE  TOWARDS  THE  MORNING    153 

It  enables  one  to  use  the  power  he  already  pos- 
sesses. Gloom  clogs  the  wheels.  Cheerfulness 
is  like  oil  on  the  axles  and  cylinders.  One  can 
do  better  work  in  a  cheerful  mood,  for  he  can 
handle  himself  to  better  advantage.  We  all  feel 
this.  When  we  are  cheerful,  we  can  do  any- 
thing. The  work  is  no  trouble.  Indeed  it  is  not 
our  work  that  is  ever  the  difficulty,  so  much  as 
our  mood.  It  is  not  what  we  do  that  wears  us 
out.  It  is  rather  worrying  about  what  we  do  not 
do,  but  think  we  should.  It  is  not  overwork  that 
breaks  people  down,  so  much  as  worry  over 
underwork,  imperfect  work.  If  only  we  could 
be  cheerful,  our  vocation  would  be  transformed 
and  work  made  a  delight. 

Optimism  is  essential  to  success.  Gloom  gets 
no  audience  anywhere.  The  thing  for  which  we 
are  willing  to  pay  the  price  of  admission  must 
please  us.  If  a  book  promises  to  make  one  mel- 
ancholy if  he  read  it,  he  will  decline  with  thauks. 
The  books  we  love  are  those  that  give  us  pleas- 
ant moods.  Should  a  certain  course  of  action  of- 
fer whose  issue  is  likely  to  depress  you,  you  shun 
it  as  you  would  smallpox.  We  may  be  willing 
to  endure  a  cross  for  the  sake  of  loyalty  to  a 
great  cause  or  a  holy  ideal,  but  not  for  the  sake 
of  being  entertained. 

Let  two  men  of  equal  capital  and  ability  start 
in  the  same  business  at  the  same  time,  side  by 
side.  Let  their  positions  and  establishments  and 
opportunities  be  the  same  in  all  respects  ;  but  let 
one  man  be  cross  and  sour  and  mean  while  his 


154  TENDENCY 

neighbour  is  genial  and  obliging  and  cheerful. 
We  know  perfectly  well  which  door  will  be 
thronged  and  which  man  is  doomed  to  make  a 
speedy  assignment  of  his  assets  to  satisfy  his 
creditors. 

Hume  said:  "The  habit  of  looking  on  the 
bright  side  of  things  is  worth  more  than  an  in- 
come of  a  thousand  dollars  a  year."  "While  one 
cannot  always  be  cheerful  on  even  a  thousand  a 
year,  especially  when  his  salary  is  paid  him  in 
the  currency  of  his  own  moods  ;  Hume  is  prob- 
ably correct  in  his  estimate  of  the  financial  value 
of  cheerfulness. 

Emerson  says  :  "  Do  not  hang  a  dismal  picture 
on  your  walls  and  do  not  deal  with  sable  and 
gloom  in  your  conversation." 

Dr.  Talmage  used  to  declare  "  Some  people 
have  an  idea  that  they  comfort  the  afflicted  when 
they  groan  over  them.  Don't  drive  a  hearse 
through  a  man's  soul.  When  you  bind  up  a 
broken  bone  of  a  soul,  and  you  want  splints,  do 
not  make  them  out  of  cast  iron." 

''  Give  us,  oh,  give  us,"  cries  Carlyle,  *'  the  man 
who  sings  at  his  work  !  Be  his  occupation  what 
it  may,  he  is  equal  to  any  of  those  who  follow  the 
same  pursuit  in  silent  sullenuess.  He  will  do 
more  in  the  same  time — he  will  do  it  better — he 
will  persevere  longer.  One  is  scarcely  sensible 
of  fatigue  when  he  marches  to  music.  The  very 
stars  are  said  to  make  harmony  as  they  revolve  in 
their  spheres.  Wondrous  is  the  strength  of 
cheerfulness,  altogether  past  calculation  its  power 


A  PACE  TOWAEDS  THE  MORNING    155 

of  endurance.  Efforts  to  be  permanently  useful, 
must  be  uniformly  joyous — a  spirit  all  sunshine 
— graceful  from  very  gladness,  beautiful  because 
bright." 

Cheerfulness  is  duty,  it  is  privilege,  it  is 
power.  There  is,  however,  a  still  higher  thing 
to  say  about  it. 

Cheerfulness  is  Possible 

It  is  possible  for  every  cue,  whatever  his  tem- 
per or  disposition  or  climate  or  circumstances  or 
call,  to  be  cheerful.  This  is  a  bold  thing  to  say, 
but  I  believe  it  to  be  true. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  one  can  always  be  on 
the  mountain  top.  There  will  come  periods  of 
depression,  occasional  descents  into  the  vale  of 
gloom.  Neither  do  I  mean  that  cheerfulness  will 
come  easily  or  at  once ;  but  by  hard,  persistent 
effort  the  prevailing  mood  of  life  may  be  made  a 
cheerful  one. 

How  is  it  to  be  done  ? 

Something  will  be  gained  by  fortitude.  There 
is  virtue  in  the  stoic's  method,  in  the  refusal  to 
be  cast  down  ;  in  the  stubborn  and  dogged  nega- 
tion of  heaviness.  I  am  not  advocating  the 
chloroform  method  of  deadening  the  soul  to  pain- 
ful sensations  ;  nor  am  I  commending  the  fool's 
philosophy  which  identifies  virtue  with  calamity  ; 
or  that  peculiarly  baffling  interpretation  of  Prov- 
idence which  makes  one's  spirits  fall  as  he  pros- 
pers and  rise  as  his  afflictions  multiply.  When  he 
published  "Taxation No  Tyranny,"  Dr.  Johnson 


\ 


156  TENDENCY 

is  reported  as  saying  to  Boswell :  "  I  do  not  think 
I  have  been  sufficiently  attacked  for  that  work. 
Attack  is  the  reaction.  I  never  feel  that  I  have 
struck  a  good  blow  unless  there  is  a  glorious  re- 
bound." To  which  Boswell  replied :  "  What  are 
you  coming  at  now,  sir  ?  I  should  think  that  five 
or  six  small  arms  in  every  newspaper,  and  repeated 
cannonading  in  pamphlets  would  satisfy  you." 

There  are  a  few  people  who  seem  never  so  happy 
as  when  they  are  most  miserable,  but  the  major- 
ity of  the  human  race  is  built  on  a  different  plan. 

There  is,  however,  such  a  thing  as  rising  by 
sheer  force  of  the  will  above  the  depressing  ef- 
fects of  adverse  conditions  and  remaining  cheerful 
by  the  power  of  determination.  At  the  battle  of 
Germantown,  General  Nash,  of  North  Carolina, 
had  his  horse  shot  from  under  him.  The  charge 
which  killed  the  horse  tore  a  hole  in  the  Gen- 
eral's thigh.  As  horse  and  rider  fell.  General 
Nash  clapped  his  hands  over  the  hole  in  his  leg 
and  laughingly  said  to  his  men :  ''Boys,  I've  had 
a  devil  of  a  tumble.  Don't  wait  for  me,  but 
hurry  on  after  the  enemy."  That  is  the  spirit 
of  the  conqueror.  A  man  with  a  will  like  that 
cannot  be  depressed. 

Nothing  can 

\  .      "  Circumvent  or  hinder,  or  control, 

I         The  firm  resolve  of  a  determined  soul." 

A  still  better  thing  to  do  is  to  cultivate  the 
habit  of  looking  on  the  bright  side  of  things. 
Like  any  other  habit,  it  is  a  habit  that  can  be 


A  FACE  TOWARDS  THE  MOENING    157 

cultivated.  One  cau  get  in  the  way  of  looking 
for  that  which  is  disagreeable,  or,  if  he  choose, 
for  that  which  is  pleasant.  He  can  cultivate  the 
disposition  of  seeing,  as  soon  as  any  subject  is 
mentioned,  the  shadows, or,  if  he  j)refer,  the  lights. 

Both  are  there.  It  is  simply  a  question  of 
which  he  will  elect.  . 

Life  is  like  the  ancient  shield  with  two  sides,  ' 
one  of  gold  and  one  of  silver.  The  two  knights 
fell  out  and  fought  as  to  which  was  right,  one 
contending  that  the  shield  was  gold  and  the  other 
as  stoutly  asserting  that  it  was  silver.  After 
both  were  worn  out  in  the  contest,  they  decided 
to  look  at  the  shield  itself,  and  lo,  both  were 
right. 

So  it  is  in  life.     There  is  a  bright  side  and  a 
dark  side.     It  is  merely  a  question  of  which  onejl 
prefers. 

One  may  cultivate  the  habit  of  looking  at  the 
bright  side.  Perhaps  this  is  the  one  thing  of 
real  value  in  Christian  Science.  Christian 
Science  is  not  a  religion.  Its  errors  from  that 
standpoint  are  palpable.  But  Christian  Science 
is  valuable  as  mental  therapeutics.     Some  one 

expressed  an  aversion  to  calling  on  Mrs.  , 

and  said  :  "  She  wails  so  much  ;  but  I  understand 
she  wails  less  now.     Probably  her  health  is  bet- 
ter."    *'Her  health  is  better,"  was  the  reply,  I 
"  because  she  wails  less." 

The  practice  of  wailing  is  hard  on  the  consti- 
tution. It  is  bad  for  the  nerves.  It  is  better  to 
be  cheerful. 


158  TENDENCY 

It  is  not  a  question  of  what  to  think  about. 
There  are  plenty  of  things  over  which  to  worry. 
There  are  problems  of  sorrow  and  suffering  and 
pain  and  sin  sufficient  to  drive  us  crazy  if  we  al- 
low them.  It  is  rather  a  question  of  what  we 
will  think  about.  He  is  wise  who  counts  his 
blessings. 

The  best  of  all  the  ways  to  be  cheerful  is  the 
method  Dr.  Chalmers  used  to  commend  when  he 
spoke  of  'Hhe  expulsive  power  of  a  new  affec- 
tion." It  is  the  method  of  crowding  out  the 
gloom  with  the  light.  The  way  the  seven  devils 
were  to  be  kept  out  of  the  cleansed  house  of  the 
man  in  the  parable,  was  by  the  angel  who  took 
up  his  abode  in  the  house. 

This  is  the  method  of  the  Gospel :  Christianity 
proposes  to  make  people  happy  by  filling  their 
hearts  with  Christ's  joy  and  peace.  It  is  the  only 
effective  method.  We  must  go  beyond  our  de- 
termination to  be  cheerful,  strong  as  that  may  be. 
We  must  have  more  than  the  habit  of  looking  on 
the  bright  side  of  things,  valuable  as  is  such  a 
habit.  If  we  are  to  be  permanently  and  trium- 
phantly cheerful  we  must  have  Christ.  The  song 
of  divine  grace  must  sing  in  our  hearts. 

As  He  was  bidding  them  farewell  on  the  eve  of 
His  arrest,  Christ  said  to  His  disciples  :  ''Peace 
I  leave  with  you."  As  He  arose  from  the  dead 
on  the  morning  of  His  Eesurrection  His  salu- 
tation was  "Peace  be  uuto  you."  One  must 
claim  Christ's  bequest  of  peace,  and  he  will  find 
cheerfulness    not    only  holy  duty  and  precious 


A  FACE  TOWAEDS  THE  MORNING    159 

privilege  and  mighty  power,  but  he  will  fiud  it  a 
blessed  possibility. 

"  ^\^iy  is  your  face  always  in  smiles  ?  "  asked 
Deicolus  of  Columbanus.  "Because  uo  oue  cau 
take  my  God  from  me,"  was  the  jubilaut  reply. 


XIII 

SANCTIFIED  FOR   THE  STREET 

"  I  have  led 
A  life  too  stirring  for  those  vague  beliefs 
That  superstition  builds  in  solitude. ' ' 

— Letitia  E.  Landon. 

Life  develops  best  in  its  own  medium,  and 
the  divinely  appointed  medium  of  life  is  the  liv- 
ing. 

The  place  for  a  religious  man  is  not  out  of  the 
world  but  in  the  world,  among  people,  where 
the  powers  with  which  he  is  endowed  may  find 
employment,  and  the  longings  which  cry  in  his 
nature  may  have  expression. 

The  cloister  was  a  mistake,  a  colossal  blunder. 
It  has  taken  man  a  few  thousand  years  to  dis- 
cover that  he  was  not  meant  to  be  a  hermit :  that 
he  has  nothing  to  fear  but  everything  to  hope 
from  his  kind. 

Society  is  his  salvation,  and  at  least  one-half  of 
life  is  to  live  on  right  terms  with  his  fellows. 

The  Hebrew  prophet  was  ahead  of  his  times 
but  a  true  seer,  who  wrote  :  ' '  In  the  day  that  I 
shall  have  cleansed  you  from  all  your  iniquities, 
I  will  also  cause  you  to  dwell  in  the  cities."  ^ 

He  seems  to  have  a  notion  that  one  could  find 
•  Ezek.  xxxvi.  33. 
160 


SANCTIFIED  FOR  THE  STREET      161 

a  sanctuary  ou  every  highway,  and  that  people 
are  made  holy  not  to  dwell  in  a  cave,  but  to  live 
in  a  city,  where  life  is  intense. 

Sanctification  is  the  cleansing  of  the  soul.  It 
is  having  the  heart  purified.  It  is  getting  rid  of 
the  pollution  of  sin  and  of  the  stains  of  lust.  It 
is  having  the  mange  of  pride  scoured  out  of  one's 
moral  nature.  It  is  getting  one's  sourness 
sweetened,  his  acidity  and  acerbity  mollified,  his 
ugliness  transformed.  It  is  being  made  gentle 
and  genuine  and  gracious  and  good  and  pure  and 
holy. 

It  is  a  big  undertaking.  To  cleanse  even  the 
best  is  no  easy  task.  To  make  a  saint  one  must 
do  more  than  provide  holy  apparel.  The  proc- 
ess of  sanctification  is  not  a  mere  matter  of  vest- 
ments. It  is  not  enough  to  make  clean  one's 
conduct.  His  character  must  be  cleansed,  his 
mind,  his  heart,  his  will,  his  imagination,  his  mo- 
tives. It  is  no  easy  thing  to  manufacture  a  real 
saint.  The  counterfeit  can  be  quickly  and  inex- 
pensively produced,  but  a  real  saint  is  costly.        l> 

It  requires  God.  If  our  moral  and  spiritual  | 
nature  is  to  be  purified,  we  must  turn  ourselves 
over  to  God  for  treatment.  God  is  never  in  de- 
spair. No  matter  how  stained  and  defiled  the 
life  may  be,  God  can  cleanse  it.  He  can  sanctify 
the  worst.  He  sees  the  making  of  a  saint  in 
the  worst  of  sinners.  He  says  :  "  Though  your 
sins  be  as  scarlet  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow  ; 
though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as 
wool." 


162 


TENDENCY 


y 


What  is  sanctification  for  ?  Is  it  the  goal  of 
religion,  the  end  of  being  ? 

Is  there  nothing  better  than  being  good  ?  Is 
there  nothing  beyond  holiness  ?  Has  G  od  tin  ished 
when  He  has  cleansed  us  from  all  our  iniquities  ? 
Is  sanctification  the  final  act  in  the  drama  of 
spirituality  ?  When  one  achieves  sainthood,  has 
he  completed  the  curriculum  of  religion  ? 

Many  say  "  Yes  " — if  not  audibly  none  the  less 
actually.  There  is  a  notion  that  the  chief  end 
of  religion  is  to  make  people  good,  to  keep  them 
from  being  bad,  to  keep  them  from  doing  bad 
things,  to  keep  them  from  saying  bad  words,  to 
keep  them  from  going  to  bad  places,  to  keep 
them  from  enjoying  bad  pleasures,  to  keep 
them  from  associating  with  bad  people,  to  keep 
them  from  eating  and  drinking  bad  things,  to 
keep  them  from  having  bad  thoughts.  If  it  can 
only  make  people  good,  religion  is  a  success.  If 
it  can  cleanse  us  from  all  our  iniquities,  there  is 
nothing  further  to  consider. 

If  this  be  the  purpose  of  sanctification,  God 
must  set  a  very  high  valuation  on  human  piety. 
Upon  reflection,  must  we  not  reach  the  conclusion 
that  God  has  a  poor  sense  of  values  ?  This  no- 
tion that  religion  is  concerned  only  or  chiefly 
with  getting  people  into  a  state  of  sanctified 
spirituality,  is  a  very  low  and  selfish  estimate  of 
the  uses  of  religion.  Indeed  there  is  no  worse 
form  of  selfishness  than  spiritual  egotism.  It  is 
the  travesty  and  desecration  of  the  best. 

It  would  monopolize  the  Almighty.     It  would 


SANCTIFIED  FOR  THE  STREET     163 

reduce  the  activities  of  the  Deity  to  a  schedule 
aud  scheme  lor  getting  a  few  choice  souls  into  au 
estate  of  immaculate  puiity,  where  they  may  be 
the  euvy  of  the  universe,  if  not  its  despair.  This 
is  uot  Christianity.  Christianity  looks  beyond 
the  cleansing  process.  Goodness  is  merely  an 
incident.  There  is  something  better  than  being 
good.  There  is  something  finer  than  getting  into 
the  gallery  of  the  saints.  On  one  occasion  Paul 
said  :  "I  could  wish  myself  accursed  for  my 
brethren."  He  said:  "There  is  something  so 
high  and  fine  and  great  that  for  the  sake  of  it,  I 
am  willing  to  forego  personal  redemption." 
Evidently  he  believed  in  a  goal  beyond  sainthood. 
There  is  something  better  than  the  promise  of 
sanctification.     It  is  the  purpose  of  sanctification. 

Sanctification  is  preparation— for  what "? 

The  common  answer  is  the  sanctuary.  "I 
have  been  cleansed  from  all  my  iniquities,  there- 
fore I  can  now  appear  before  the  Lord  in  an  ac- 
ceptable manner.  I  have  been  sanctified,  now  I 
can  worship  to  advantage,  I  can  say  my  prayers 
with  some  hope  of  returns,  I  can  read  my  Bible 
with  profit,  I  can  partake  of  the  Holy  (Com- 
munion without  sacrilege.  I  have  been  made 
holy,  now  I  can  climb  to  the  heights  of  the  Mount 
of  Transfiguration,  and  dwell  on  the  plains  of 
peace,  and  breathe  the  rarified  atmosphere  of  the 
triumphant  life  of  privilege  and  assurance.  I  am 
a  holy  man,  therefore  I  may  now  enjoy  quiet  rest, 
and  holy  meditation  aud  blissful  contemplation 
aud  perfect  peace. 


'1 


/ 


164  TENDENCY 

"  At  any  rate,  since  I  have  been  sanctified,  I 
must  be  careful  not  to  be  secularized.  I  must 
keep  away  from  the  wicked  world.  I  must  shun 
dirt  of  all  kinds.  I  must  not  allow  my  white 
soul  to  be  stained  nor  my  sanctified  garments  to 
be  defiled.  I  must  lead  the  separated  life.  Does 
it  not  say,  '  Come  ye  out  from  among  them  and 
be  ye  separate  from  sinners '  ?  I  must  come  out. 
The  Lord's  seal  is  on  me.  I  am  one  of  His 
chosen  people  and  I  must  not  mingle  with  the 
multitude  of  them  who  have  not  the  fear  of  the 
Lord  before  them." 

And  so  some  would  quarantine  themselves 
against  mankind.  They  are  so  solicitous  not  to  be 
secularized  that  they  imprison  themselves  from 
the  wicked  world.  They  seek  holy  retreats  and 
pious  solitudes.  They  take  refuge  in  monasteries 
and  convents  and  sanctified  seclusions,  where 
they  may  stay  good  and  practice  the  holy  life. 

This  is  not  the  program  of  a  real  saint. 

Instead  of  shunning  it,  the  real  saint  seeks  the 

secular.     He  is  thrust  into  it.     Sanctification  is 

not  so  much  preparation  for  the  sanctuary  as  for 

f  the  street.     The  city  is  a  saner  residence  for  a 

\  good  man  than  a  religious  retreat. 

"I  will  also  cause  you  to  dwell  in  the  cities." 
God  seems  to  nullify  Himself.  He  seems  to 
make  void  His  own  work.  "In  the  day  that  I 
shall  have  cleansed  you  from  all  your  iniquities." 
That  is  a  great  day.  ''I  will  also  cause  you  to 
dwell  in  the  cities."  What  a  disappointment! 
What  a  wretched  finale  !    The  city  is  the  very 


SANCTIFIED  FOR  THE  STREET      165 

incarnation  of  the  world-spirit.  It  is  the  em- 
bodiment of  ail  that  is  bad.  The  city  imperils 
the  good.  Recently  I  read  a  book  on  National 
Perils,  and  the  caption  of  one  of  the  chapters 
was  "The  City."  The  popular  estimate  of  the 
city  is  to  regard  it  as  a  peril.  It  is  the  strong- 
hold of  sin.  It  is  the  place  where  all  the  harm 
is  done.  There  iniquity  is  concocted  and  vice  is 
at  home.  There  temptation  is  impudent  and  in- 
cessant. The  city  is  the  place  where  the  saint 
is  destroyed  and  goodness  laid  low.  It  is  the 
home  of  struggle  and  suffering,  of  poverty  and 
want,  of  woe  and  sorrow. 

Surely  the  soul  of  a  saint  will  soon  be  choked 
to  death  in  that  atmosphere  ;  the  sanctified  will 
soon  become  secularized.  We  are  saying  that 
the  city  is  the  last  place  for  us  if  we  want  to  be 
good.  The  very  last  place  for  the  sanctified  man 
is  the  street  of  sin.  Let  him  flee  temptation. 
Let  him  hark  from  the  haunts  of  vice.  Let  him 
get  to  the  country,  into  contact  with  nature, 
where  the  open  fields  and  blue  skies  and  singing 
birds  and  blooming  flowers  and  all  the  other 
things  shall  whisper  to  him  of  God  and  help  him 
to  stay  good.  In  the  day  that  he  is  sanctified  let 
him  flee  the  town. 

God  says,  "Seek  the  town."  Instead  of  the 
sanctuary  and  the  communion  table,  God  says 
the  market-place  and  the  busy  street.  Instead  of 
the  open  fields,  He  says  the  crowded  city.  In- 
stead of  a  garden  He  says  a  slum.  Man  is  sancti- 
fied, not  that  he  may  climb  some  Mount  of  Trans- 


V 


166  TENDENCY 

figuration  or  take  an  outing  to  the  land  of  rest  or 
cusliion  himself  in  the  blissful  repose  of  some 
sequestered  sanctuary,  but  he  is  sanctified  for  the 
most  secular  place  and  the  most  secular  occupa- 
tion. 

A  genuine  saint  is  a  citizen.  By  a  citizen,  I 
mean  not  merely  a  man  who  wakes  up  on  election 
days  and  hangs  around  a  voting  booth  and  talks 
politics.  A  citizen  is  a  member  of  the  com- 
munity. He  is  not  a  hermit  but  a  fellow  man. 
He  carries  the  problems  of  the  city  in  his  heart. 
He  plunges  into  the  thick  of  its  activities.  He 
loves  its  people.  He  does  his  best  to  fight  the 
city's  battles,  and  to  protect  its  interests.  He 
gives  his  all  to  feed  its  hungers  and  nurse  its 
sickness  and  solace  its  woes  and  comfort  its  sor- 
rows. He  wears  himself  out  in  its  service.  This 
is  the  real  citizen,  and  this  kind  of  citizen  is  the 
real  saint. 

The  man  of  the  street  needs  to  be  a  God- 
cleansed  man.  He  needs  the  sanctuary  to  be 
sure.  He  must  not  dare  adventure  the  city  or 
appear  upon  the  street  until  he  has  had  his  con- 
tact with  God.  Before  ever  he  takes  up  the 
duties  of  the  office,  the  shop,  the  factory,  the 
school,  the  store,  he  must  linger  at  the  altar. 
The  reason  the  street  slays  us  is  that  we  have 
neglected  the  altar.  The  reason  the  city  destroys 
us  is  that  we  have  gone  there  uncleansed,  with 
all  the  stain  and  weakness  of  the  secular  upon  us. 
The  man  whose  work  is  the  most  secular  is  the 
man  of  all  others  who  most  needs  an  hour  of  wor- 


SANCTIFIED  FOR  THE  STEEET     1G7 

ship  and  an  altar  of  prayer.  He  whose  life  is 
most  worldly  is  he  whose  need  is  most  desperate 
for  the  sanctifying,  cleansiug  and  illuminating 
ministry  of  faith.  But  after  God  has  cleansed 
him,  let  him  not  fear  the  secular.  Let  him  seek 
the  city. 

The  street  needs  the  saint.  It  needs  the  man 
who  looks  beyond  the  sky-scrapers  and  who  heai-s 
above  the  din  and  tumult  of  trade,  the  call  of  the  A 
Eternal.  Commerce  needs  the  entry  of  men  whose 
standard  of  righteousness  is  from  God.  Politics 
needs  the  activities  of  men  whose  convictions  are 
a  pai't  of  their  worship.  Society  needs  the  help 
of  people  whose  pleasures  are  a  blessed  ministry 
and  whose  prayer  life  is  not  negatived  by  their 
play  life.  Let  us  be  done  with  the  cant  which 
shouts  "wolf"  every  time  the  Chm-ch  gets  into 
the  street,  every  time  the  saint  becomes  a  man  of 
the  town  and  Christianity  lays  hold  of  real  prob- 
lems. 

We  have  had  enough  of  these  tin  soldier  saints, 
these  dim  sanctum  saints,  these  glass  case  saints,    ' 
these  self-centred  saints,  these  mutual  admiration 
saints,  these  private  monopoly  saints,  who  think ' 
God  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  preserve  them  unto 
His  heavenly  kingdom.     Let  us  have  a  few  plain,  \ 
ordinary  town  saints  ;  a  few  secularized  saints  ;  \ 
an  order  of  priests  who  are  priests  indeed  ;  a  gen-  i 
eration  of  Christians  who  are  not  too  holy  to  be  ' 
useful. 

Religion,  instead  of  taking  us  out  of  the  world, 
is  meant  to  take  us  into  it.    If  Christ  has  cleansed 


\ 


168  TENDENCY 

ine,  instead  of  running  from  temptation  I  must 
fight  it  ;  instead  of  avoiding  trouble,  I  must  cure 
it ;  instead  of  shunning  suffering,  I  must  share  it. 
I  must  plunge  into  the  game  of  real  life.  This 
was  Jesus'  way,  and  we  must  follow  Him.  He 
did  not  spend  His  time  seeking  religious  retreats. 
He  sanctified  Himself ;  but  He  did  not  say  "  Now 
that  I  am  sanctified,  I  must  get  out  of  the  world." 
His  sanctification  was  His  preparation  for  serv- 
ing humanity.  It  took  Him  into  the  street 
at  whose  end  stood  a  cross.  This  is  what 
Paul  meant  when  he  said  he  was  willing  to 
sacrifice  personal  redemption  to  save  his  people. 
He  was  following  in  the  footsteps  of  Him  who 
teaches  that  if  any  man  will  save  his  life,  he  must 
lose  it. 

Let  us  not  be  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  die  and 
go  to  heaven.      When  we  speak  of  being  un- 
worldly, let  us  be  sure  we  get  our  words  straight. 
What  is  worldliness  ?    Is  it  not  selfishness  1    Who 
are  the  selfish?    Are  they  not  the  people  who 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  others  ?    The  selfish 
I  man  is  the  man  who  will  have  no  neighbours,  no 
'  boon  companions,  and  who  repudiates  all  social 
ties  and  social  duties.     He  is  the  real  worldling. 
i  He  incarnates  the  real  world  spirit.     He  is  sanc- 
I  tified  for  his  private   profit  and  he  thinks  of 
*  heaven  as  a  close  corporation  of  which  he  is  one 
of  the  controlling  stockholders. 

Christ  is  leading  us  not  back  to  the  garden  but 
on  to  the  town,  not  back  to  Eden  but  on  to  the 
New  Jerusalem.     He  is  beckoning  us  to  a  city. 


SANCTIFIED  FOR  THE  STREET     169 

*^  I,  John,  saw  the  holy  city,  New  Jerusalem, 
coming  down  from  God  out  of  heaven!"  This 
is  the  dream  of  Christianity  for  the  future  of 
mankind.  God  sanctifies  us,  not  that  we  may 
wander  through  the  daisied  fields,  but  enter  the 
crowded  streets,  not  that  we  may  withdraw  into 
selfish  solitudes,  but  with  the  Son  of  Man,  toil 
among  the  iDeople.  He  is  calling  us  to  service, 
to  fellowship,  to  brotherhood  ! 


"  I  said,  '  Let  me  walk  in  the  field.' 
He  said,  '  Nay,  walk  in  the  town. ' 
I  said,  '  There  are  no  flowera  there. ' 
He  said,  '  No  flowers  but  a  crown. ' 

"  I  said,  '  But  the  skies  are  black, 

There  is  nothing  but  noise  and  din.' 
And  He  wept  as  He  sent  me  back, 

'  There  is  more,'  He  said,  '  There  is  sin.' 

"  I  said,  '  But  the  air  is  thick. 
And  fogs  are  veiling  the  sun.' 
He  answered,  '  Yet  souls  are  sick, 
And  souls  in  the  dark  undone.' 

"  I  said,  '  I  shall  miss  the  light 

And  friends  will  miss  me  they  say.' 
He  answered,  '  Choose  to-night. 
If  I  am  to  miss  you  or  they.' 

"  I  pleaded  for  time  to  be  given. 
He  said,  '  Is  it  hard  to  decide? 
It  will  not  seem  hard  in  heaven 
To  have  followed  the  steps  of  your  guide.* 


170  TENDENCY 

"  I  cast  one  look  at  the  field, 

Then  set  my  face  to  the  town. 
He  said,  '  My  child,  do  you  yield  ? 

Will  you  leave  the  flowers  for  the  crown  ?  ' 

"  Then  into  His  hand  went  mine 
And  into  my  heart  came  He, 
And  I  walked  in  a  light  divine. 
The  path  I  had  feared  to  see."  * 

*  George  Macdonald. 


XIV 

THE   VALUE  OF  AN  EDDY  IN  THE 
STREAM  OF  LIFE 

"  For  solitnde  sometimes  is  beat  society, 
And  short  retirement  nrges  sweet  return." 

— John  Milton. 

In  life,  as  in  music,  there  is  value  in  a  rest. 
The  idea  of  the  sanctity  of  the  Sabbath,  of  the 
high  obligation  of  a  day  of  rest  in  the  midst  of 
the  strenuous  week,  is  not  accidental. 

A  pause,  now  and  then,  is  necessary  to  life's 
symmetric  development.  Even  Christ,  who  lived 
life,  after  a  heavenly  fashion  on  earth,  and  who 
is  our  fairest  illustration  of  the  perfect  life,  was 
not  above  the  need  of  rest. 

On  one  occasion.  He  said  to  His  disciples  : 
"Come  ye  yourselves  apart  into  a  desert  place, 
and  rest  a  while."  ^ 

To  those  strenuous  disciples,  who  from  quiet 
fishermen  had  become  busy  apostles,  thronged 
by  insistent  crowds  and  absorbed  by  incessant 
and  exacting  duties,  Jesus  said  :  ' '  Get  away 
from  it  all  for  a  while  to  some  desert  place,  where 
you  can  get  your  breath  and  eat  your  food  un- 
molested." 

>  Mark  vi.  31. 
171 


172  TENDENCY 

It  looked  as  if  Christ  were  side-tracking  them  ; 
as  if  He  were  sending  them  to  obscurity  just  as 
they  were  reaching  the  height  of  popularity  ;  as  if 
He  were  throwing  them  out  of  the  race  the  mo- 
ment they  were  about  to  pluck  the  goal  of  suc- 
cess. What  career  was  there  for  such  men  as 
these  in  the  desert  ? 

A  short  while  before  Jesus  had  called  these 
men  to  Him  and  sent  them  forth  on  a  great 
campaign.  He  had  equipped  and  commissioned 
them  and  sent  them  out.  True,  their  equipment 
seemed  rather  meagre.  Their  baggage  was  light ; 
they  were  not  allowed  two  coats.  Their  supplies 
were  small ;  there  was  not  enough  in  the  purse  to 
pay  for  a  night's  lodging.  They  were  told  to  go 
forth  and  preach  repentance.  It  was  an  unpop- 
ular doctrine.  They  faced  the  campaign  with 
vague  forebodings.  They  were  without  capital 
and  without  reputation.  What  could  they  hope 
to  accomplish  ?  But  they  went,  and  now  they  are 
back. 

They  have  won.  Everything  has  come  their 
way.  The  results  have  been  marvellous.  They 
are  intoxicated  with  success.  They  have  worked 
wonders.  Their  message  has  proven  to  be  most 
popular.  The  people  have  crowded  to  hear  them. 
Even  the  devils  have  been  subject  to  them.  At 
their  touch  diseases  have  been  healed.  Their 
missionary  journey  has  been  a  triumphal  proces- 
sion. It  is  wonderful  what  a  man  with  nothing 
but  the  message  and  tlie  power  of  God  can  accom- 
plish.    Nothing  is  too  hard  for  him.     He  needs 


THE  VALUE  OF  AN  EDDY  173 

only  to  proclaim  the  message  and  to  exercise  the 
power  to  carry  the  day. 

They  are  telling  Christ  the  story  of  their  suc- 
cess. Their  aspect  has  changed  somewhat. 
Their  tone  is  not  quite  the  same.  They  are  be- 
ginning to  feel  their  importance.  There  is  a  bit 
of  ecclesiastical  arrogance  in  their  accent.  That 
trick  is  acquired  so  soon.  They  are  saying  to 
Christ:  "The  thing  is  easy.  We  can  change 
this  land.  We  have  had  crowds  everywhere. 
Everybody  is  talking  about  us.  Wherever  you 
go,  you  will  hear  our  names.  Look  at  the  crowds 
yonder.  They  are  expecting  preaching  again." 
Then  Jesus  said  that  which  sounded  strange  to 
those  popular  and  successful  disciples.  He  bade 
them  pause.  It  was  not  what  they  were  expect- 
ing to  hear.  It  seemed  to  them  the  very  last 
and  worst  thing  to  do.  The  crisis  was  at  hand. 
The  psychological  moment  had  arrived.  They 
had  the  ear  of  the  public.  Now  was  the  time  to 
strike.  What  was  needed  was  not  to  relax,  but 
to  redouble  their  efforts.  Christ  says  :  "Quiet! 
Give  over  the  whole  campaign.  Get  away  from 
the  people  entirely." 

He  saw  what  the  disciples  did  not  see.  He 
saw  the  difference  between  publicity  and  power, 
between  curiosity  and  conviction,  between  a 
crowd  and  a  convert,  between  notoriety  and  suc- 
cess. He  knew  what  the  work  needed,  and  He 
also  knew  what  the  workers  needed  ;  and  so  He 
told  His  disciples  to  leave  the  crowds  and  seek 
the  solitude ;  to  get  to  some  spot  where  they 


174  TENDENCY 

could  be  alone  ;  to  get  out  of  the  roar  and  rush 
and  struggle  of  the  main  current  to  some  quiet 
eddy  under  a  green  bank  where  the  waters  were 
still  and  the  stream  placid  and  where  they  could 
rest  a  while. 

He  proclaims  the  value  of  an  eddy  in  the  stream 
of  life. 

Often  His  word  to  men  is  like  that  to  His  dis- 
ciples on  the  morning  of  their  missionary  adven- 
tui-e.  He  sends  them  out  into  mid-stream.  He 
says  :  ''Go  forth  and  work  ;  testify,  heal,  help, 
champion  the  cause  of  the  weak,  comfort  the  dis- 
tressed, be  diligent,  be  tireless,  be  industrious, 
transact  the  business  of  the  world  for  the  glory  of 
God."  Sometimes  the  vastness  of  the  enterprise 
is  overwhelming.  Our  gifts  are  poor  and  our 
equipment  meagre.  What  can  we  accomplish? 
But  it  is  wonderful  what  any  man  or  woman  can 
do  in  this  world  with  nothing  but  the  message 
and  the  power  of  God.  We  go  forth  and  try,  and 
somehow  the  impossible  again  comes  to  pass. 
We  find  that  the  stone  has  been  rolled  away 
from  the  door  of  the  sepulchre.  We  discover 
that  God's  word  does  not  return  unto  Him  void. 
Success  surprises  us. 

Then  just  at  the  critical  moment,  when  there  is 
so  much  to  do,  when  the  fruit  of  the  vineyard  is 
fully  ripe,  and  the  fields  white  unto  the  harvest, 
and  everything  is  calling  for  redoubled  effort, 
Christ  says  :  < '  Eest  a  while. ' '  He  thrusts  in  be- 
tween us  and  our  work,  and  by  His  providence, 
shunts  us  to  some  solitude.     He  bids  us  turn  our 


THE  VALUE  OF  AN  EDDY  175 

boat  out  of  the  maiu  curreut.  He  commands  us 
to  get  out  of  the  rush  aud  roai'  and  race  and  seek 
some  quiet  spot,  where  the  willows  hang  low  and 
the  waters  ripple  in  gentle  murmurs  on  the  quiet 
sands,  aud  there  forget  for  a  while  that  there  is 
anything  to  do  in  the  world. 

It  is  not  always  easy  to  be  reconciled  to  the 
eddy.  We  feel  that  to  be  taken  out  of  the  thick  of 
things  is  to  fail.  To  one  of  active  mind  and 
vigorous  stroke,  the  eddy  seems  an  asylum  of  de- 
feat. It  is  no  easy  thing  to  endure  enforced  in- 
activity. We  feel  that  we  should  be  up  and  on. 
Unless  we  are  busy,  life  seems  wasted  and  oppor- 
tunity lost.  It  is  hard  to  feel  that  we  are  living 
to  much  purpose  unless  we  are  in  the  midst  of  the 
whirling  rapids,  contending  with  might  and  main 
against  the  tumult  of  waters  that  drench  us  with 
their  spray  and  thunder  about  us  the  menace  and 
challenge  of  their  compelling  forces. 

Christ,  however,  knows  the  value  of  an  eddy. 
He  knows  the  business  of  the  main  current,  too. 
There  are  times  when  no  one  is  more  for  the  mid- 
stream than  He.  He  was  no  idle  dreamer.  He 
lived  a  stirring  life.  He  did  things.  He  thrilled 
his  age.  He  traversed  his  land  over  and  over 
again,  from  border  to  border.  Few  but  knew 
there  was  such  a  person  as  the  Eabbi  Jesus ;  and 
all  who  wished,  had  the  chance  to  see  Him.  But 
Jesus  also  knew  there  were  times  when  the 
worker  should  forsake  the  crowds  and  take  to 
the  desert ;  when  he  should  let  the  work  go ; 
when  he  should  forget  that  there  are  people  tired 


176  TENDENCY 

and  hungry  and  sick  ;  when  he  should  turn  his 
back  on  the  throngs  of  eager,  interested,  insist- 
ent, needy  humanity,  and  sink  himself  for 
a  while,  beyond  the  reach  of  publicity,  in  some 
serene  solitude. 

Are  there  not  occasions  when  what  we  need  is 
not  to  be  prodded,  to  be  told  to  be  more  ener- 
getic, more  diligent  and  assiduous,  to  rise  earlier 
and  work  longer  and  be  instant  in  season  and  out 
of  season  1  Are  there  not  times  when  we  do  not 
greatly  need  a  fresh  dissertation  on  the  charms 
and  virtues  of  the  strenuous  life  ?  Perhaps  we 
have  heard  enough  about  "the  strenuous  life." 
The  trouble  with  the  average  life  to-day  is  that 
it  is  a  little  too  strenuous.  There  are  many  com- 
ing and  going  and  there  is  no  leisure  so  much  as 
to  eat.     Humanity  swarms  in  ceaseless  activities. 

The  need  is  for  a  pause,  a  respite  in  the  desert. 
The  need  is  to  get  to  some  place  where  the  tele- 
phone bell  does  not  ring  ;  out  of  the  roar  and  rush 
and  struggle  ;  to  some  serene  retreat  where  we  can 
rest  on  our  oars  and  listen  to  the  lap  of  the  waters 
as  they  rock  the  boat,  and  look  up  through  the 
leaves  of  the  arching  branches  into  heaven's 
eternal  blue,  and  hear  the  bird-songs  in  the 
boughs  and  the  frogs  croaking  in  the  flags, 
while  the  blessed  quiet  and  peace  of  brooding 
nature  falls  around  the  soul. 

We  need  the  solitude  and  quiet  of  the  eddy  for 
rest.  Jesus  saw  that  His  disciples  were  jaded  and 
tired.  Perhaps  they  did  not  feel  it  themselves. 
One  may  be  so  absorbed  in  his  work  as  to  be  ob- 


THE  VALUE  OF  AN  EDDY  177 

livions  of  phj^sical  exhaustiou.  Christ's  keen  eye 
detected  that  His  disciples  were  weary  and  He  said 
to  them :  "  You  must  rest.  Your  work  is  im- 
portant ;  but  just  now  something  else  is  more  im- 
portant.    Come  apart  and  rest  a  while." 

It  was  to  be  just  for  ''a  while."  It  was  not  to 
be  permanent.  Rest  is  not  the  regular  program 
for  this  life.  Work  is  the  regular  ijrogrum.  iiiit 
Christ  knew  the  value  of  a  pause  in  the  mu.sic. 
He  would  have  these  men  rest  long  enough  to 
give  their  worn  bodies  and  weary  brains  a  chance 
to  recover ;  until  they  could  get  themselves  in 
hand  and  make  ready  for  a  fresh  campaign. 

People  sometimes  need  rest.  We  are  made  of 
the  sort  of  stuff  that  gets  tired.  We  are  not 
made  of  iron  and  stone  and  steel,  but  of  flesh  and 
blood  ;  and  these  are  no  match  for  machinery  in 
a  long  race.  The  failure  to  observe  the  need  for 
rest  is  often  accompanied  by  disastrous  conse- 
quences. The  columns  of  the  daily  papers  stare 
us  in  great  head-lines  with  the  announcements  of 
frightful  railway  disasters.  While  all  of  these 
dreadful  fatalities  are  not  occasioned  by  requir- 
ing men  to  work  beyond  the  point  of  physical 
efficiency,  doubtless  many  of  them  are  the  direct 
result  of  driving  flesh  and  blood  and  brain  and 
muscle  beyond  human  endurance.  Men  are  told 
to  work  on  when  their  eyelids  hang  heavy  for 
lack  of  sleep  and  their  brains  are  dull  and  slug- 
gish from  the  prolonged  strain. 

Nervous  disorders  are  largely  on  the  increase, 
and  no  doubt  a  chief  explanation  is  the  failure  of 


178  TENDENCY 

people  to  rest  when  they  need  it.  The  body  and 
biaiu  are  toned  up  with  drugs  and  stimulants 
and  kept  going,  until  there  is  a  breakdown. 
Then  we  are  taken  to  a  sanatorium  where  we  are 
rubbed  and  dieted  and  dosed  and  massaged  and 
electrified  and  pulled  into  shape  to  get  back 
again  into  the  maio  current,  where  we  rush  on 
until  the  next  breakdown. 

There  are  times  when  rest  is  as  much  a  divine 
command  as  work  ;  when  it  is  as  much  one's  duty 
to  quit  as  to  go  on ;  when  the  place  where  God 
wants  us  is  there  where  there  are  no  tools  and  no 
audience  ;  nothing  but  desert  and  solitude. 

"Eest  a  while!"  Oh,  thou  blessed  human 
Christ,  who  didst  take  our  tired  and  weary  hu- 
man nature  up  into  Thine  own  ;  who  at  Jacob's 
well  didst  rest  Thyself  and  by  that  act  didst  con- 
secrate all  human  rest ;  who  dost  look  with  ten- 
der interest  on  those  who  are  jaded  and  worn 
with  toil  and  dost  thrust  in  between  them  and 
exacting  duties,  and  say  to  the  thronging  crowds, 
"Stand  back!"  to  insolent  industry  and  noisy 
machinery  and  roaring,  tumultuous  trade, 
"Stand  back  !  give  blood  and  brain  and  muscle 
a  chance;"  and  whose  call  to  the  overworked, 
where  many  are  coming  and  going  and  there  is 
no  leisure  so  much  as  to  eat,  is,  ' '  Come  ye  your- 
selves apart  and  rest  a  while  !  "  Thou  blessed 
Christ  of  the  road  and  the  field  and  the  shop,  we 
thank  Thee  for  rest — just  for  rest  ! 

We  need  the  solitude  and  quiet  of  the  eddy  for 
meditation. 


THE  VALUE  OF  AN  EDDY  179 

Some  things  are  missed  in  mid-stream.  Some 
things  that  are  most  important,  we  overlook  in 
the  rush  and  noise  and  compelling  competition 
of  our  busy  life.  There  may  be  duties  near  at 
hand,  but  we  lack  the  time  to  look  around,  and 
God  must  take  us  to  an  eddy  to  show  us  duties 
near  home.  Mr.  Jacob  Eiis  tells  of  a  prominent 
philanthropist  and  Christian  worker  who  came 
to  him  one  day  and  begged  that  he  would  find 
for  him  some  family  of  foreigners  that  his  family 
might  visit  and  make  good  citizens  and  bring  to 
Christ.  Mr.  Eiis  found  him  a  family.  It  was 
that  of  a  Norwegian  woman  who  every  day 
scrubbed  the  office  of  this  Christian  philanthro- 
pist. There  was  his  work,  right  under  his  eyes, 
but  he  was  too  busy  to  see  it. 

There  are  duties  in  the  desert.  It  is  a  mistake 
to  confound  the  quiet  of  the  eddy  with  stagnation. 
There  is  abundant  opportunity  for  heroism  away 
from  the  rush  and  competition.  A  lad  who  was 
already  a  wage-earner  and  partly  the  support  of 
his  widowed  mother  met  with  a  street  accident 
and  was  taken  to  the  hospital,  where  both  legs 
were  amputated.  His  mother  stood  by  the  little 
sufferer  with  streaming  eyes.  He  mistook  the 
cause  of  her  grief.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that 
she  could  be  crying  out  of  sympathy  for  him. 
He  supposed  she  was  troubled  because  the  income 
of  the  family  was  threatened,  and  with  the  un- 
selfishness of  a  hero,  in  his  crude,  boyish  way, 
he  tiied  to  comfort  her  by  saying  :  ''  Don't  cry, 
mudder  !    Lots  of  kids  gits  settin'  down  jobs." 


180  TENDENCY 

The  little  fellow  had  been  cast  out  into  an  eddy, 
but  it  was  his  chance  for  heroism.  And  what  he 
said  is  true  in  a  sense  he  did  not  mean.  There 
are  "sitting  down  jobs"  ;  there  is  work  to  be 
done  in  the  solitude  ;  there  are  duties  apart  from 
the  busy  throngs  and  the  rush  of  things ;  and 
sometimes  Christ  takes  us  out  of  the  main  cur- 
rent that  we  may  meditate  on  all  this,  and  see 
the  great  chance  in  life  which  we  were  about  to 
overlook. 

He  takes  us  there  that  we  may  be  alone  with 
Him.  It  is  hard  to  get  our  attention.  So  many 
other  things  are  clamouring  for  an  audience  at 
the  same  time.  Christ's  call  is  but  one  of  a  thou- 
sand appeals  knocking  at  the  door  and  seeking 
admission  to  heart  and  mind.  There  is  not  much 
chance  for  Christ  with  us,  until  we  pull  out  of 
mid-stream  into  the  eddy.  He  wants  our  undi- 
vided attention,  and  He  would  take  us  where  we 
can  hear  and  see.  Have  you  ever  stood  in  the 
midst  of  a  roaring,  rushing  stream  and  noticed 
how  difficult  it  is  to  hear  anything  but  the  noise 
of  the  waters  ?  One  summer  day  I  was  trout  fish- 
ing in  a  wild  mountain  stream.  My  companion 
was  our  youngest  child,  a  lad  of  seven.  I 
placed  the  little  fellow  on  a  big  boulder  in  mid- 
stream, with  his  rod,  and  told  him  to  fish  there, 
while  I  went  a  little  further  on.  After  a  while  I 
looked  up  and  he  was  gesticulating  wildly  and 
shouting  for  me  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  but  I  did 
not  hear  a  word.  The  noise  of  the  stream  drowned 
all  else. 


THE  VALUE  OF  AN  EDDY  181 

Is  it  uot  thus  with  us  sometimes  in  the  stream 
of  life  ?  God  is  calling  us.  He  is  thundering 
His  appeal  to  our  soul ;  but  we  hear  nothing  but 
the  noise  of  the  waters  about  us.  God  must  get 
us  out  of  the  roar  and  tumult,  if  He  would  make 
Himself  heard. 

He  calls  us  to  the  quiet  of  the  eddy  that  we 
may  listen  and  learn.  He  would  not  have  us 
misled  as  to  what  constitutes  life.  He  looked 
and  listened  to  those  disciples  making  their  re- 
port. Perhaps  He  saw  they  were  about  to  lose 
their  ideals.  They  were  getting  gross  and  ma- 
terialistic. They  were  measuring  success  by  the 
size  of  the  crowd  that  followed  them.  They  were 
concluding  that  because  they  were  becoming 
popular,  the  battle  was  won,  whereas  it  was  just 
begun.  And  so,  that  they  might  recover  them- 
selves, that  they  might  get  back  their  own  souls, 
He  took  them  to  a  sanctuary  of  meditation. 

Among  the  great  paintings  in  Florence  are  the 
angels  of  Fra  Angelico,  which  he  is  said  to  have 
painted  when  he  was  kneeling  prayerfully  at  his 
work.  A  man  who  spends  his  time  copying  these 
angels  says  that  he  has  little  difficulty  in  the 
work  when  he  is  in  a  devotional  frame  of  mind  ; 
but  that,  after  a  night  at  cards  or  a  wine  supper, 
he  finds  the  work  most  difficult.  He  can  get  the 
outlines  and  colours,  but  after  a  night's  carousal, 
it  is  days  before  he  can  get  the  expression  in  the 
faces  of  Angelico's  angels. 

The  peril  which  threatens  many  a  man,  in  the 
awful  rush  and  contact  of  modern  life,  is  that  he 


182  TENDENCY 

will  lose  his  own  soul,  his  ideals,  his  responsive- 
ness, his  aspirations  ;  and  become  hard  and  cold 
and  stale.  Christ  calls  us  aside  to  the  meditative 
houi',  that  we  may  learu  anew  what  makes  true 
success;  ''for  what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he 
gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ? " 

He  calls  us  to  the  solitude  and  quiet  of  the  eddy 
for  strength. 

Publicity  is  a  peril.  The  average  life  is  shal- 
lowed by  the  crowd.  The  man  who  is  constantly 
giving  out,  but  who  has  no  fountain  at  which  to 
renew  himself,  is  weakened.  This  is  the  menace 
which  imperils  a  busy  life.  How  little  time  there 
is  given  for  fellowship.  Under  the  constant 
strain  and  drain,  personality  is  sapped  and  life 
loses  its  power  and  beauty. 

Christ  calls  to  the  desert  that  He  may  renew  us, 
that  He  may  build  up  the  weakened  will  and  give 
tone  and  colour  and  resourcefulness  to  the  spirit. 
The  only  way  to  acquire  this  is  through  contact 
with  the  Divine.  The  shallowed  soul  must  go  to 
the  deeps.  The  tired  spirit  must  seek  the  source 
of  infinite  strength.  Man  must  touch  God,  if  he 
is  to  be  charged  with  new  power. 

It  is  true  that  "  solitude  is  the  mother  country 
of  the  strong,"  provided  solitude  be  a  sanctuary 
where  the  exhausted  soul  comes  into  contact  with 
the  eternal  source  of  power.  The  life  that  is  to 
be  strong  before  the  world  must  have  seasons 
when  it  is  alone  with  God.  It  has  been  truly 
said  that  "  if  chosen  men  had  never  been  alone  in 
deep  mid-stream,  open-doored  to  God,  no  great- 


THE  VALUE  OF  AN  EDDY  183 

ness  ever  had  been  dreamed  or  done."  It  was 
from  forty  years  of  solitude  in  the  desert  that 
Moses  went  to  his  public  ministry.  John  the 
Baptist  emerged  from  the  wilderness,  when  he 
appeared  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan  to  the  crowds 
that  thronged  him  there.  After  his  conversion 
Paul  went  for  three  years  to  the  desert  of  Arabia 
Petrea,  before  beginning  his  world  mission. 
Even  Christ  felt  the  need  of  a  wilderness  expe- 
rience before  entering  upon  His  brief  public  min- 
istry. 

One  must  hearken  to  the  desert  call,  if  he 
would  do  his  work  well. 

Oh,  for  a  pause  in  the  onward  rush  !  For  an 
hour  in  quiet  waters  !  For  a  sanctuary  where 
the  soul  can  be  alone  with  God  ! 

It  is  not  easy  to  attain.  Christ  said  to  His 
disciples,  "  Come  to  the  desert,"  and  they  de- 
parted in  a  ship  privately ;  but  the  crowd  was 
not  to  be  put  aside.  The  people  rushed  around 
the  upper  end  of  the  little  lake,  and  when  Christ 
and  His  disciples  reached  the  "desert  place," 
they  found  5,000  people  there,  and  another  long 
day  of  exacting  duties. 

It  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  get  away  from  work. 
It  is  not  even  easy,  in  this  crowded,  modern  life 
to  find  the  quiet  place.  The  stream  has  few  ed- 
dies. 

Perhaps  the  Church  itself  might  be  made  to 
minister  more  than  it  does  to  this  need  of  our 
nature.  A  friend  who  is  an  extremely  busy  man 
and  who  carries  large  business  responsibilities, 


184  TENDENCY 

told  me  this  experience.  It  was  after  an  un- 
usually crowded  and  laborious  week  and  he  was 
feeling  the  strain  of  his  work.  His  brain  was  in 
a  whirl  and  his  nerves  on  edge.  He  said  to  him- 
self :  "I  will  go  down  to  the  church  and  have  a 
bit  of  quiet  there. ' '  And  so  on  a  week-day  morn- 
ing he  came  and  sat  down  in  a  pew  and  spent  a 
quiet,  restful  hour  in  the  sanctuary,  with  his  soul 
turned  towards  the  Great  Giver  of  strength  and 
peace,  and  went  away  refreshed. 

Perhaps  there  are  many  to  whom,  in  the  rush 
of  this  strenuous  life,  the  open  door  of  the  sanc- 
tuary might  offer  the  holy  solitude  the  Saviour 
had  it  in  His  heart  to  give  His  jaded  disciples. 

If  there  are  those  who  are  burdened  and  sore 
pressed,  and  who  could  turn  aside  for  a  few  mo- 
ments in  the  midst  of  the  day,  and  find  in  the 
holy  spell  of  God's  house  the  calmness  they  need, 
and  go  forth  with  fresh  strength  and  a  new  in- 
spiration, surely  it  would  not  desecrate  the 
church  to  open  the  door. 

Life  must  beware  of  the  publicity  that  makes 
it  shallow.  Amid  the  crowding  duties  of  the 
strenuous  life,  it  is  wise  to  listen  for  the  call  of 
Him  who  ever  and  anon  says  to  the  workers,  * '  Rest 
a  while,"  and  to  remember  that  He  who  calls  to 
the  solitude  is  the  same  who  says  to  all  who 
labour  and  are  heavy  laden  :  *'  Come  unto  Me 
and  I  will  give  you  rest." 


XV 
THE  WINGS  OF  A  DOVE 

"  Wouldst  thou  from  sorrow  find  a  sweet  relief  ? 
Rouse  to  some  work  of  high  and  holy  love, 
And  then  an  angel's  happiness  shalt  prove." 

— Carlos  Wilcox. 

The  pause  is  of  value  only  as  it  is  a  pause.  It 
must  not  become  permanent.  Sometimes  we 
wish  it  could.  We  long  for  a  solitude  that  shall 
be  a  final  and  lasting  escape  from  all  our  troubles. 
We  sympathize  with  that  cry  of  the  pestered  and 
worn-out  Jewish  king,  when  he  exclaimed  :  ' '  Oh, 
that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove !  for  then  would  I 
fly  away  and  be  at  rest."  ^ 

In  the  midst  of  passionate  protest  and  bitter 
denunciation,  the  awful  tragedy  of  his  situation 
breaks  in  upon  him,  the  apparent  hopelessness  of 
it,  the  dull  and  sickening  injustice  of  it ;  until, 
in  a  perfect  panic  of  emotion,  there  escapes  from 
his  lips  this  sigh  of  a  soul  for  repose. 

He  has  fought  desperately  for  the  seat  of  power 
which  he  occupies.  The  story  of  his  success 
reads  like  a  romance.  From  the  quiet  and  ob- 
scure life  of  an  humble  and  unpretentious  shep- 
herd boy  caring  for  his  father's  flocks,  he  has 
made  his  way  by  daring  deeds,  through  war  and 

>  Ps.  Iv.  6. 
185 


186  TEN^DENCY 

heroism,  to  the  throne  of  a  great  nation ;  and 
now,  having  reached  the  summit  of  his  ambition, 
he  finds  it  a  storm  centre  of  trouble. 

He  discovers  that,  to  achieve  peace  and  power, 
is  but  to  multiply  care  and  increase  responsibility. 
He  is  finding  what  every  man  finds  who  has 
fought  his  way  to  the  goal  of  his  ambition.  He 
finds  that  he  has  left  repose  and  serenity  and 
peace  of  mind  and  freedom  from  worry  behind. 
For  ever  is  it  true  that  "uneasy  lies  the  head 
that  wears  the  crown."  And  yet,  by  some 
strange  fatuity  of  destiny,  by  some  unexplained 
but  resistless  impulse,  people  will  persist  in 
fighting  for  the  chance  to  lose  their  quiet.  They 
say  :  ' '  Let  us  satisfy  our  ambition,  and  we  will 
pay  the  price  with  the  sacrifice  of  peace." 

Yet  it  is  something  more  than  the  cares  which 
come  with  peace  and  power  that  trouble  the  king 
whose  fevered  lips  and  yearning  heart  sigh  for 
repose.  He  is  distracted  with  trouble.  He  is 
agitated  beyond  measure  by  the  cares  and  worries 
of  life.  He  watches  treason  daily  growing  bolder 
in  his  'palace.  He  sees  iniquity  hurling  itself 
down  upon  him  like  rocks  from  the  mountain 
heights.  Terrors  rush  upon  him  like  an  ava- 
lanche. His  kingdom  is  rife  with  plots.  His 
own  son  and  his  trusted  counsellor  are  conspiring 
against  him.  The  horror  of  darkness  surrounds 
him.  Fearfulness  and  trembling  lay  hold  upon 
him.  In  the  midst  of  his  distraction  he  ex- 
claims :  "  Oh,  that  I  could  get  away  from  it  all ! 
that  I  could  get  back  to  the  quiet  fields  with 


THE  WINGS  OF  A  DOVE  187 

the  flocks,  with  the  music  of  the  waterfalls,  and 
the  shilling  stars  in  my  face  and  the  open  sky  for 
my  canopy  and  the  wild  winds  singing  their 
lullabies  to  my  tired  spirit." 

As  his  soul  muses,  distracted  over  the  situa- 
tion, his  attention  is  arrested  by  a  commotion  in 
the  street.  The  people  come  running  together, 
there  are  blows  and  shouts  and  the  yelping  of 
street  dogs  mingled  with  the  screams  of  the 
frightened  and  excited  populace.  It  was  a  com- 
mon sight  in  the  streets  of  a  tm-bulent  Oriental 
city.  As  David  looks  down  from  the  parapet  of 
the  palace  wall  on  this  street  brawl,  suddenly  he 
sees  a  dove  emerge  from  the  centre  of  the  scene 
of  confusion,  from  beneath  the  very  feet  of  the 
contestants,  and  spreading  its  wings,  fly  away  to- 
wards the  serene  altitudes  and  solitudes  of  the 
sky.  As  he  watches  the  bird,  he  says  :  ' '  Oh, 
that  I  could  do  a  thing  like  that  !  that  I  could 
escape  out  of  all  this  treason  and  strife  !  Oh, 
that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove  !  for  then  would  I 
fly  away  and  be  at  rest,  Lo,  then  would  I 
wander  far  off,  and  remain  in  the  wilderness,  I 
would  be  a  nobody  the  rest  of  my  days ;  for  the 
wilderness  with  peace  is  better  than  a  throne  of 
care 


n 


Is  it  the  prayer  of  a  coward  ?  Has  the  king 
lost  his  courage?  Is  this  sigh  for  repose  the 
sigh  of  a  beaten  and  defeated  man  ?  The  king  is 
not  afraid  of  his  enemies  ;  but  his  soul  is  sick  of 
shams,  of  base  ingratitude,  of  duplicity  and  vain- 
glory.    The  longing  he  expresses  is  deepest  in 


188  TENDENCY 

those  whose  devotion  to  duty  is  most  steadfast. 
It  is  not  because  he  is  scared,  but  because  his 
soul  is  tired  of  strife  and  his  heart  hurt  with  the 
ungratefulness  and  betrayal  of  false  friends  and 
his  spirit  weary  of  the  empty  show,  that  he  lifts 
his  tired  face  and  troubled  heart  to  God  for  rest. 

Where  is  the  man  or  woman  in  any  walk  of 
life,  who  does  not  sympathize  with  the  troubled 
king,  and  who  has  not,  at  some  time,  uttered  his 
sigh  for  repose?  We  try  to  be  brave  and  stead- 
fast to  duty,  but  the  clamour  and  tumult,  the 
strife  and  injustice  of  the  world  gain  upon  us  ; 
and  in  some  unguarded  moment,  the  prayer  for 
escape  slips  out  of  our  tired  hearts.  Oh,  to  get 
away  from  it  all !  from  ingratitude  and  disap- 
pointment, from  the  futile  effort,  and  the  vain  and 
empty  show.  It  distracts,  it  sickens  and  dis- 
quiets, it  gets  on  our  nerves  and  wears  us  out. 
Oh,  for  the  wings  of  a  dove,  and  rest ! 

As  we  pray,  maybe  for  us  as  for  the  king, 
there  drifts  across  the  field  of  memory  or  on  the 
horizon  of  imagination  the  vision  of  a  green  field 
on  sunny  hills,  with  the  sheep  grazing  undis- 
turbed ;  or  a  lodge  in  the  wild  woods  amid  the 
leafy  forests ;  or  a  shelter  by  the  seashore,  with 
the  roll  of  the  sea,  and  the  white  foam  on  the 
quiet  beach ;  or  a  cottage  perched  on  a  moun- 
tain top,  high  above  the  strife  and  tumult  and 
folly  of  the  restless  world  ;  and  our  souls  catch  at 
the  picture,  and  we  cry  out:  "O  God,  for  its 
rest ! " 

It  is  something  to  pray  the  prayer.     Whether 


THE  WINGS  OF  A  DOVE  189 

or  not  the  dream  ever  translates  itself  into  actual 
experience,  it  is  something  to  be  able  to  lift  a 
tortured  and  tormented  soul  up  towards  the 
quiet  face  of  the  Infinite  and  say,  ''O  God, 
my  Father,  help  Thy  tired  and  troubled  child." 
The  prayer  is  always  ours.  Nothing  can  take 
prayer  from  us.  We  may  not  be  able  to  go 
away,  but  we  can  pray.  The  oratory  is  near  at 
hand.  It  is  in  our  hearts.  In  the  thick  of  the 
conflict,  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult  we  may  enter 
the  closet  of  the  soul's  inner  life  and  shut  the 
door  and  pray  to  our  Father  in  secret,  *'  O  God, 
for  the  wings  of  a  dove,  for  rest,  for  the  embrace 
of  Thy  strong  arms,  for  Thyself!  "  "  Thou  hast 
made  us  for  Thyself,  and  our  hearts  are  restless 
until  they  find  rest  in  Thee."  ^ 

Are  we  traitors  to  duty  because  we  offer  such 
a  prayer?  Are  we  cowards  because  care  drives 
us  to  His  breast  ?  Are  we  weak  and  unworthy 
because,  when  the  hot  fire  scorches  us,  and  the 
sharp  thorn  drives  its  poison  into  our  blood,  we 
feel  the  pain  and  cry:  "Help,  Lord"?  The 
flame  and  the  thorn  are  sometimes  sent  to  drive 
us  to  Him.  And  so  as  I  face  my  fears  and  con- 
front the  cares  of  life,  I  will  pray  without  shame 
for  the  wings  of  a  dove. 

It  is  a  prayer  God  declines  to  answer.  He  did 
not  allow  David  to  go  to  private  life.  He  did 
not  permit  him  to  lay  aside  the  crown  and 
vacate  the  throne.  Never  again  would  there 
come  back,  for  him,  those  sunlit,  care-free  days 
'  Angustine. 


190  TENDENCY 

of  shepherd-boyhood,  with  the  murmur  of  the 
brooks  and  the  bleatiug  of  the  sheep  and  the 
scented  fields  and  the  white  clouds  drifting  lazily 
on  a  blue  sky.  He  must  stay  at  his  post.  He 
must  face  the  storm  and  fight  his  way  through. 

God  does  not  give  us  the  wings  of  a  dove  that 
we  may  fly  away  from  trouble.  He  does  not 
give  us  exemption.  He  does  not  take  us  out  of 
the  world.  He  wants  us  here  in  the  world, 
where  the  tumult  is  greatest,  where  the  battle  is 
hottest  and  the  opposition  fiercest.  We  cannot 
go,  we  must  stay.  The  gray  days  stretch  on  in 
the  calendar.  The  hard  tasks  marshal  out  into 
the  monotonous  future  until  the  hated  line  is  lost 
in  the  far  distance.  There  is  no  let  up,  no  relief. 
"We  must  plod  on. 

We  may  as  well  make  up  our  minds  to  the 
situation.  We  are  not  here  for  repose  ;  we  are 
here  for  work.  '^ To-day  the  song  of  battle." 
We  are  here  not  to  rust  out,  but  to  wear  out,  to 
be  patient,  to  resist,  to  persist,  to  do  with  our 
might  whatsoever  our  hands  find  to  do.  If  we 
fall,  we  are  to  rise  again  ;  and  if  we  fall  to  rise 
no  more,  we  are  to  fall  with  our  faces  towards 
the  foe,  with  our  souls  refusing  to  surrender. 

This  is  heroism.  There  is  nothing  more 
heroic  than  plain  devotedness  to  duty.  It  may 
get  no  cheers,  it  may  never  appear  in  the  head- 
lines, but  it  is  kingly,  it  is  divine. 

While  the  prayer  for  the  wings  of  a  dove  is 
unanswered,  it  is  more  than  answered.  Let  me 
explain  what  I  mean  by  another  dove  scene  in 


THE  WINGS  OF  A  DOVE  191 

th<j  Bible.  It  occurred  ou  the  bauks  of  the 
Jor'lau,  where  a  preacher  named  Johu  was  bap- 
tizing a  rabbi  named  Jesus.  Jesus  is  ou  the 
threshold  of  His  public  miuistry.  It  was  to  be 
the  most  tempestuous  that  ever  surged  around  a 
human  life.  It  was  to  be  thick-set  with  tumult 
and  conflict,  with  treason  and  betrayal,  with 
opposition  and  injustice,  until  at  last  it  was  to 
reach  its  climax  in  the  cruel  death  on  the  cross. 
As  Jesus  confronts  the  storm,  He  seeks  that 
which  will  enable  Him  to  have  peace  and  rest 
and  confidence  amid  its  tumults.  This  is  given 
Him. 

"  The  Holy  Spirit  descended  in  a  bodily  form 
as  a  dove  upon  Him,  and  a  voice  came  out  of 
heaven  ;  Thou  art  My  beloved  Son ;  in  Thee  I 
am  well  pleased."  ^  Christ  has  received  what 
King  David  prayed  for.  He  has  the  wings  of  a 
dove.  Better,  He  has  repose  without  goiug 
away  from  His  work.  God  has  bestowed  on 
Him  the  strength  which  will  enable  Him  to 
achieve  rest  in  the  storm. 

With  the  wings  of  a  dove,  with  the  power 
which  has  come  to  Him  in  the  form  of  a  dove 
from  heaven,  Jesus  moved  out  into  the  thick 
of  the  tumult,  into  the  restlessness  and  strife  of 
a  sin-smitten  world.  Amid  it  all,  He  had  perfect 
peace,  for  He  had  power.  Indeed,  so  secure  was 
He  in  His  possession  of  it,  that  He  conferred  peace. 
It  was  the  one  thing  the  world  could  not  take 
from  Him.     He  left  it  to  His  disciples  as  His  last 

'  Luke  iii.  22. 


192  TENDENCY 

bequest ;  and  to  all  the  tired  and  troubled  of 
earth  who  pray  for  the  wings  of  a  dove,  He  says  : 
Come  unto  Me  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  All  ye 
that  labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  come  unto  Me, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest. 

This  is  the  way  God  gives  the  wings  of  a  dove. 
He  more  than  answers  the  prayer.  He  does  not 
take  us  out  of  the  world,  but  He  equips  us  for 
victory  in  the  world.  He  does  not  give  us  less 
work,  but  more  strength  with  which  to  do  it ; 
so  that  we  can  toil  on  and  not  get  tired  ;  so  that 
we  can  face  our  program  with  quiet  nerves  ; 
so  that  we  can  do  not  less  but  more  ;  so  that  we 
can  find  our  leafy  bower,  our  rest  cottage  in  the 
busy  street,  in  the  din  and  clamour  of  work. 

He  does  this  by  changing  us,  by  transforming 
our  characters.  This  is  the  first  work  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  a  man's  life.  In  another  Psalm 
is  this  promise:  ''When  ye  lie  among  the 
sheepfolds,  it  is  as  the  wings  of  a  dove  covered 
with  silver,  and  her  pinions  with  yellow  gold."  ' 
It  is  a  picture  of  transformed  and  transfigured 
character. 

God  rests  us  by  making  work  rest  us,  by  mak- 
ing our  duties  our  privileges,  our  troubles  our 
consolations,  our  sacrifices  our  achievements, 
our  losses  our  gains,  our  burdens  our  blessings. 

He  rests  us  by  sharing   our   work   with  us. 

The  Saviour  is  our  yoke-fellow.     Near  the  end 

of  the    tempestuous    song,    David  says,    "Cast 

thy  burden  upon  the  Lord,  and  He  shall  sustain 

>Ps,  Ixviii.  13. 


THE  WINGS  OF  A  DO\'K  193 

thee,"  He  htis  discovered  the  true  seeret  of  rest, 
aud  as  the  soug  comes  to  its  hual  note,  he  says, 
"O  God,  I  will  trust  iu  Thee." 

Is  uot  this  better  thau  exemptiou  ?  Is  it  not 
far  better  thau  throwing  down  your  tools  aud 
quitting  work  aud  going  off  into  Elysiau  soli- 
tudes? God  gives  us  the  wings  of  a  dove,  not 
that  we  may  go  iu  quest  of  rest,  but  that  rest 
may  come  to  us.  He  causes  repose  to  descend 
and  dwell  about  us  as  we  work  ;  He  makes  peac^ 
the  garrison  of  our  souls.  Keep  on  praying  for 
the  wings  of  a  dove,  but  be  coutent  for  God  to 
answer  the  prayer  His  own  way.  He  will  more 
than  answer  it. 

"  He  waa  better  to  me  than  all  my  hopes, 
Better  thau  all  my  fears  ; 
For  He  made  a  bridge  of  my  broken  sighs, 
Aud  a  raiubow  of  my  tears." 

While  it  is  an  unanswered  prayer,  there  will 
come  a  day  when  this  prayer  for  rest  shall  be 
answered  in  a  higher,  grander,  diviner  way  than 
we  have  ever  imagined. 

There  came  a  day  when  the  king  had  his 
wish  ;  when  his  soul  had  its  wings ;  when  for 
the  last  time  he  said  :  *'  The  prayers  of  David, 
the  son  of  Jesse,  are  ended"  ;  when  a  window 
opened  towards  the  sunrise  and  the  soul  of  a 
man  who  had  been  faithful  unto  death  slipped 
out  to  meet  the  dawn,  on  the  wings  of  a  dove. 
The  king  had  finished  his  work,  and  the  soul, 
yearning  for  repose,  was  given  its  rest ;  not  in 


194  TENDENCY 

some  lodge  in  the  wilderness,  not  on  the  sunny 
slope  of  a  green  hill,  but  "in  God's  house  for- 
evermore." 

This  is  the  Christian's  hope.  There  remaineth 
a  rest  for  the  people  of  God.  Omnipotent  love 
has  built  a  world  of  quiet  above  the  storm  line, 
and  some  day  we  shall  fly  away  and  be  at  rest. 
He  will  take  us  in  out  of  the  tempest,  up  above 
the  strife  and  clamour,  above  all  the  weariness 
of  the  fevered  world,  and  our  tired  spirits  shall 
rest. 

Thank  God  for  the  dream,  and,  better  still, 
for  the  reality.  It  will  all  come  true.  We  are 
not  to  plod  on,  tired,  forever.  Up  there,  a  rest 
remains.  This  hope  sustains  and  comforts  us 
in  the  midst  of  the  conflict.  I  can  go  back  to 
my  work  now.  I  can  stand  the  strain  a  while 
longer.  I  can  meet  the  bufieting  tide  with  fresh 
courage,  for  yonder,  on  the  horizon  of  hope,  is 
the  kingdom  of  quiet,  the  country  of  rest,  the 
homeland  of  peace. 


"  There  lies  a  little  city  in  the  hills  ; 
White  are  its  roofs,  dim  is  each  dwelling's  door, 
And  peace  with  perfect  rest  its  bosom  fills. 

**  There  the  pure  mist,  the  pity  of  the  sea, 
Comes  as  a  white,  soft  hand,  and  reaches  o'er 
And  touches  its  still  face  most  tenderly. 

"Unstirred  and  calm,  amid  our  shifting  years, 
Lo  !  where  it  lies,  far  from  the  clash  and  roar, 
"With  quiet  distm  ce  blurred,  as  if  thro'  tears. 


THE  WINGS  OF  A  DOVE  195 

*'  O  heart,  that  prayest  so  for  God  to  send 
Some  loviug  messenger  to  go  before 
And  lead  the  way  to  where  thy  longings  end. 

"  Be  sure,  be  very  sure,  that  soon  will  come 
His  kindest  angel,  and  through  that  still  door 
Into  the  Infinite  Love  will  lead  thee  home."  * 

IE.  K.  Sill. 


XVI 

THE  ALTAR  AND  THE  CHOIR 

"  Unhappy  being  that  I  am  !  Who  will  free  me  from  the 
hands  of  the  ungodly  ?  Who  will  shield  me  ?  Who  will 
come  to  my  succour?  Whither  shall  I  flee?  How  can  I 
escape  ?  I  know  what  I  will  do  :  I  will  turn  to  heavenly 
things,  and  they  shall  do  battle  with  the  things  of  earth. 
Hope  shall  lead  the  forces  of  Heaven.  Hope  shall  march 
against  Sorrow  and  overcome  her." — Savonarola,  the  night 
before  his  execution. 

Life  is  part  a  song  and  part  a  sob.  It  is  half 
jubilate  and  half  miserere.  It  is  never  far  from 
a  smile  to  a  tear.  Christianity's  finest  symbol 
of  the  victorious  life  is  a  cross  encircled  by  a 
crown. 

The  story  of  the  ancient  liturgy  of  religion  is 
that  "when  the  burnt  offering  began,  the  song 
of  the  Lord  began  also."  ^ 

The  ceremonial  of  worship  consisted  of  two 
parts, — the  offering  of  sacrifices  and  the  service 
of  song.     The  two  went  together. 

It  was  the  gospel  of  the  altar  and  the  choir. 
In  the  ancient  temple  there  was  an  altar,  a  place 
where  sacrifice  was  offered.  Beside  the  altar 
stood  the  officiating  priest,  with  reverent  atti- 
tude and  awesome  ritual,  laying  upon  the  flam- 
ing hearth  the  sacrificial  gift  of  the  sinful  soul 
seeking    peace  with    God.     The  altar  was   the 

'  2  Chron.  xxix.  27. 
196 


THE  ALTAR  AND  THE  CHOIR      197 

slirine  of  the  tragedy  of  religion.  The  story  be- 
hind it  was  the  tale  of  the  ruin  of  the  race,  and 
around  the  altar  surged  the  sorrows  and  woes 
and  weaknesses  of  mankind. 

In  the  ancient  temple  there  was  also  the  choir, 
the  service  of  song,  the  great  chorus  of  praise  to 
Almighty  God,  whose  mercy  blessed  the  sacrifice 
and  whose  pity  spared  the  penitent.  The  choir 
was  the  shrine  of  the  ecstasy  and  triumph  of  re- 
ligion. There  the  holy  Psalms  were  chanted, 
which  voiced  the  people's  adoration  of  Jehovah. 
With  sins  forgiven,  with  hearts  overflowing  with 
gratitude,  with  sorrows  comforted,  and  with 
woes  and  weaknesses  cured,  the  hosts  which 
thronged  the  temple  courts  worshipped  God  in 
holy  song. 

Life  must  have  these  two  great  shrines  of  the 
soul  for  its  highest  development. 

It  must  have  the  altar,  the  sacrifice,  the  propi- 
tiation. True  religion  must  have  an  adequate 
remedy  for  sin.  It  must  cleanse  the  guilty  heart 
and  regenerate  the  dead  soul.  When  the  sinner 
comes  with  his  burden  of  guilt,  his  load  of  woe, 
tormented  by  remorse  of  conscience  and  af- 
frighted with  the  terror  of  an  angry  God,  what 
he  needs  is  not  a  creed  that  will  set  him  to  mor- 
tifying the  flesh  and  mumbling  phrases  ;  but  one 
that  tells  him  that  without  the  shedding  of  blood 
there  is  no  remission  of  sins  ;  that  takes  him  to 
an  altar  where  the  sacrifice  is  the  "Lamb  slain 
from  the  foundation  of  the  world."  The  sinner 
needs  far  more  than  a  ritual ;  he  needs  a  Saviour. 


198  TENDENCY 

It  must  also  have  the  choir.  Christianity  is 
the  one  musical  religion  of  the  world.  The  great 
musical  composers  have  come  either  directly  or 
indirectly  under  the  spell  of  Christianity.  They 
have  gotten  their  inspiration  from  the  religion 
whose  altar  reconciles  man  to  God,  and  makes  of 
sinners  the  children  of  the  Most  High.  Hea- 
thenism has  no  song.  Paganism  and  infidelity 
are  not  musical.  It  is  the  gospel  of  the  love 
of  God  that  sets  the  heart  singing.  It  is 
Christianity's  heaven  that  is  filled  with  an  in- 
numerable throng,  singing  ' '  the  song  of  Moses 
and  the  Lamb." 

The  altar  and  the  choir  are  related  as  cause 
and  effect.  It  is  the  sacrifice  that  starts  the  song. 
If  there  were  no  propitiation  for  sin,  there  could 
be  no  forgiveness.  If  religion  were  only  a  ritual 
or  a  form  of  penance,  it  would  depress  us  ;  but 
because  it  is  salvation,  it  thrills  us,  it  exalts  and 
exhilarates  us,  it  fills  the  soul  with  melody  and 
wakes  the  world  with  song. 

Life  is  to  be  built  around  these  two  great 
shrines  of  sacrifice  and  song.  God's  temple  is 
not  so  much  these  houses  built  of  steel  and  stone 
which  we  erect  as  places  of  worship,  as  it  is  the 
building  whose  invisible  walls  are  the  life  ex- 
periences of  the  immortal  spirit.  In  each  such 
life-temple  there  must  be  an  altar,  a  shrine  of 
sacrifice.  If  there  is,  there  will  also  be  a  choir, 
a  shrine  where  invisible  voices  chant  symphonies 
of  joy  and  peace  and  hope.  These  two  shrines 
of  tragedy  and  ecstasy  express  life. 


THE  ALTAR  AND  THE  CHOIR      199 

They  speak  of  worship  aud  happiuess.  The 
altar  stands  for  worship  aud  the  song  for  the 
happiness  that  worship  brings. 

The  altar  says  that  man  must  worship  God. 
There  can  be  no  happiness  without  it.  The 
Creator  has  built  into  our  natures  an  undying 
need  of  Him.  The  soul  cries  out  for  God  as  the 
flowers  cry  out  for  sunshine  or  a  child's  heart  for 
a  mother's  love.  There  are  aspirations  which 
soar  away  into  the  infinite  and  covet  fellowship 
with  the  Eternal.  "Oh,  that  I  knew  where  I 
might  find  Him  !  that  I  might  come  even  to  His 
seat!"  He  is  poor  indeed  whose  life  has  no 
altar ;  whose  soul  has  no  God,  no  reverence,  no 
spot  of  which  he  may  say,  "This  is  holy 
ground"  ;  no  hour  when  with  uncovered  head 
and  bowed  heart  the  secret  needs  of  his  life  are 
laid  bare  to  the  loving  gaze  of  divine  compas- 
sion. 

We  need  God  far  more  than  we  need  bread  or 
raiment.  No  man  can  be  happy  without  God. 
He  may  choke  his  soul  into  insensibility,  until 
he  hears  no  cry,  but  he  will  not  be  happy.  God 
is  the  centre  of  life.  He  has  made  us  for  Him- 
self. Life  is  more  than  feeding  the  senses. 
"Wherefore  do  ye  spend  money  for  that  which 
is  not  bread  ?  and  your  labour  for  that  which 
satisfieth  not?  hearken  diligently  unto  Me,  and 
eat  that  which  is  good,  and  let  your  soul  delight 
itself  in  fatness.  Incline  your  ear  and  come  unto 
Me :  hear  and  your  soul  shall  live ;  .  .  ."  ' 
•  Isa,  Iv.  2,  3. 


200  TENDENCY 

*'  I  shall  be  satisfied  wheu  I  awake  in  Thy  like- 
ness"— never  until  then. 

If  one  is  unhappy,  it  is  not  because  of  food  or 
raiment  or  work  or  wages.  There  is  no  song 
because  there  is  no  altar.  He  is  trying  to  grow 
a  flower  garden  on  a  barren,  sterile  rock.  Let 
him  get  his  soul  under  an  eternal  horizon,  his 
pulses  filled  with  faith  in  Jehovah  ;  and,  peering 
beyond  the  low  banked  hills  and  passing  clouds, 
let  him  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  everlasting  peaks 
and  the  face  of  God.  It  is  the  soul  with  an  altar 
that  has  a  song.  It  is  the  man  that  worships 
God  that  is  happy.  "Man's  chief  end  is  to 
glorify  God  and  to  enjoy  Him  forever."  The 
man  who  has  not  learned  to  enjoy  God  has  not 
yet  discovered  the  secret  of  how  to  enjoy  any- 
thing. 

It  is  also  the  story  of  atonement  and  peace. 
The  altar  stands  for  atonement,  and  the  song 
stands  for  the  peace  purchased  by  atonement. 

The  altar  says  that  man  is  a  sinner.  He  has 
violated  a  holy  law.  He  is  estranged  from  God, 
and  hostile  to  His  kingdom.  Before  he  can  even 
worship  God  aright,  his  sins  must  be  atoned  for. 
Conscience  says  that  this  story  of  the  altar  is 
true.  We  know  that  our  hearts  are  not  right 
with  God.  Our  guilty  fears  and  evil  lusts  alike 
proclaim  the  need  of  reconciliation. 

It  is  this  atonement  or  reconciliation  which 
Christ  has  wrought  out  on  the  cross.  He  has 
suffered  in  the  sinner's  stead.  He  is  the  sacrifice 
demanded.     He   has  offered  up  Himself  as  a 


THE  ALTAR  AND  THE  CHOIR     201 

sacrifice  to  satisfy  di vine  justice  and  to  recoucile 
us  to  God.  He  is  the  propitiatiou  for  our  sins. 
* '  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  He  was 
bruised  for  our  iniquities ;  the  chastisement  of 
our  peace  was  upon  Him  ;  and  with  His  stripes 
we  are  healed."  Christ  was  "  brought  as  a  lamb 
to  the  slaughter."  He  died  for  the  sinner.  If 
so,  the  sinner  must  have  been  in  danger.  His 
peril  must  have  been  real,  eternal,  for  deliver- 
ance to  have  been  purchased  at  so  stupendous  a 
cost.  Man  is  more  than  the  victim  of  circum- 
stances. He  is  a  sinner  in  need  of  the  atoning 
merit  of  the  Lamb  of  God. 

When  the  merit  of  Christ's  atoning  sacrifice 
becomes  ours,  peace,  sweet,  satisfying,  eternal 
peace,  floods  the  soul.  This  is  Christ's  promise. 
' '  Peace  I  leave  with  you,  My  peace  I  give  unto 
you  ;  not  as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you."  * 
The  world's  peace  is  the  peace  of  compromise ; 
Christ's  is  the  peace  of  reconciliation.  It  is  the 
peace  of  reconciliation  that  is  musical.  It  is  a 
song  that  can  be  sung  only  in  sight  of  Calvary's 
blood-stained  cross,  for  without  the  shedding  of 
blood  there  is  no  remission  of  sins.  Without  an 
altar  of  atonement  there  can  be  no  song  of  recon- 
ciliation. 

The  altar  and  the  choir  take  us  to  a  door 
draped  in  shadows,  and  reveal  to  the  soul  that 
has  been  reconciled  to  God  the  mystery  of  suffer- 
ing and  sainthood.  The  altar  stands  for  suffer- 
ing and  the  song  stands  for  the  sainthood  found 
•  JohD  xiv.  27. 


202  TENDENCY 

through  suffering.  The  altar  is  a  place  of  pain. 
That  ancient  altar,  dripping  with  the  blood  of 
its  slain  victims,  was  a  gruesome  sight.  This 
modern  altar,  loaded  with  the  groans  and 
anguish  and  agony  of  human  life,  is  a  spectacle 
from  which  we  would  oft-times  turn  away.  It  is 
hard  to  suffer.  It  is  hard  to  suffer  pain.  It  is 
hard  to  suffer  sickness.  It  is  hard  to  suffer 
estrangement  and  adversity.  It  is  hard  to  suffer 
the  loss  of  home  and  loved  ones.  Suffering  is  a 
hard  thing,  but  it  is  a  holy  thing.  Suffering  is 
the  tragedy  of  the  altar. 

It  is  necessary.  Somewhere  in  the  temple 
court  of  a  redeemed  life  this  altar  must  stand. 
It  is  God's  own  altar.  He  stands  beside  it  and 
administers  the  sacrifice.  It  pleased  Him  to 
make  the  Captain  of  our  salvation  perfect 
through  suffering.  In  the  same  way,  God  per- 
fects all  His  children.  He  calls  us  to  suffer.  If 
He  calls  us  to  suffer,  suffering  can  never  take  us 
away  from  Him.  It  can  never  be  a  bar  to 
fellowship  with  Him.  Indeed,  it  is  through  suf- 
feriug  that  He  imparts  Himself  and  His  charac- 
ter to  His  people. 

Hard  by  the  altar  of  suffering  rises  the  chant 
of  sainthood.  Suffering  is  the  way  to  glory,  the 
door  to  communion,  the  bond  of  fellowship. 
"If  we  suffer,  we  shall  also  reign  with  Him." 
It  is  declared  that  these  light  afflictions,  which 
are  but  for  a  moment,  shall  work  out  for  us  a  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 
**  Whom  the  Lord  loveth,  He  chasteneth."     Suf- 


THE  ALTAR  AND  THE  CHOIR      203 

fering  is  lite  iu  the  shadows.  The  uight  seems 
to  close  down  upon  us,  but  we  have  "songs  iu 
the  night."  "  Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night, 
but  joy  Cometh  iu  the  morning."  Every  soul 
that  is  to  wear  the  crowu  of  sainthood  must 
somewhere  along  the  journey  wear  the  crown  of 
thorns  ;  but  every  thorn  of  that  crown  of  sufl'er- 
ing  is  barbed  with  the  character  of  Him  who 
wore  it  first,  and  as  the  thorns  pierce,  they  im- 
part Christ. 

But  even  sainthood  is  not  the  end  of  salvation. 
Sometimes  we  think  it  is,  and  imagine  that  hav- 
ing entered  into  communion  with  God  and 
acquired  something  of  Christlikeness  in  charac- 
ter, we  have  attained  the  end  of  our  salvation. 
Communion,  however,  anticipates  conflict,  and 
we  soon  find  ourselves  on  a  battle-field. 

It  is  the  story  of  struggle  and  achievement. 
The  altar  stands  for  struggle  and  the  song  for  the 
achievement  won  by  struggle. 

The  altar  speaks  of  conflict  and  trial  and 
temptation.  It  is  not  easy  to  be  good  and  do 
right.  One  must  contend  earnestly.  No  victory 
was  ever  won  without  a  battle.  We  are  not  to 
be  dismayed  when  the  war  hymn  begins  and  our 
marching  orders  send  us  straight  into  the  thick 
of  conflict,  for  struggle  is  still  the  story  of  the 
altar.  We  would  like  to  win  without  struggle, 
but  life  does  not  come  that  way. 

Life  is  ever  the  output  of  pain.  Greatness  is 
the  product  of  discipline.  ''The  trial  of  your 
faith    is   precious."     Dickens,    in    one    of   his 


204  TENDENCY 

uovels,  has  an  amusing  character  who  was  never 
so  happy  as  when  having  a  hard  time.  When 
things  were  easy  and  conditions  comfortable,  he 
grew  despondent  and  was  greatly  depressed  ;  but 
when  circumstances  were  desperate  and  difficul- 
ties piled  up  before  him  thick  and  apparently 
insurmountable,  he  became  incarnate  optimism 
and  was  as  happy  as  an  angel.  The  novelist  has 
caricatured  one  of  the  profouudest  truths  of  life. 
Difficulty  is  a  real  altar  stair.  The  frosts  of 
winter  are  necessary  to  spring.  It  is  in  the  fire 
that  metal  gets  its  character. 

It  is  better  to  battle  than  to  dwindle.  God 
wants  us  to  be,  rather  than  to  have.  He  wants 
us  to  acquire  fortitude  and  heroism  and  conse- 
cration and  we  do  so  through  struggle.  This  is 
the  song  of  battle.  This  was  what  Paul  meant 
when  he  said:  ''I  have  fought  a  good  fight." 
He  was  singing  his  battle  hymn.  Perhaps  one 
may  say  :  ' '  He  has  little  to  show  for  it.  Look 
at  his  poverty  ;  think  of  his  treatment ;  listen 
to  that  clanking  chain  of  bondage."  Yes,  but 
look  at  him.  Look  at  his  faith,  his  courage,  his 
sublime  peace  !  Look  at  the  soul  of  him,  and 
listen  to  him  as  he  sings  :  ''I  am  now  ready  to 
be  offered  and  the  time  of  my  departure  is  at 
hand."  His  face  is  shining  with  the  light  of 
heaven  and  his  mighty  soul  is  aflame  with  the 
glory  of  the  world  to  come.  He  had  his  altar 
and  he  has  his  song. 

There  is  one  more  chapter  of  life  transfigured 
by  the  subject.     It  is  the  story  of  service  and 


THE  ALTAR  AND  THE  CHOIR      205 

reward.  The  altar  stands  for  service  and  the 
song  for  the  reward  of  service. 

The  altar  life  is  the  service  life.  It  is  the 
service  of  the  life  laid  down.  It  is  the  service  of 
the  life  that  ministers  and  judges  that  because 
one  died  for  all,  then  were  all  dead,  and  that  He 
died  for  all  that  they  which  live  should  not 
henceforth  live  unto  themselves,  but  unto  Him 
that  died  for  them  and  rose  again.  The  altar 
speaks  not  of  what  we  get,  but  of  what  we  give  ; 
not  of  our  gains,  but  our  losses.  The  hero  of 
the  altar  is  one  who  made  Himself  of  no  reputa- 
tion and  became  a  servant. 

This  is  the  purpose  of  it  all.  All  preparation 
faces  the  altar  of  service.  Inasmuch  as  He  laid 
down  His  life  for  us,  "  we  ought  to  lay  down  our 
lives  for  the  brethren."  We  are  not  to  spare 
ourselves,  we  are  to  spend  ourselves.  We  are 
here  to  be  worn  out,  burned  up,  consumed.  The 
lesson  is  hard  to  learn,  but  the  teacher  is  divine. 
We  would  draw  back  from  the  fires  of  this  altar. 
The  heat  scorches  and  the  fierce  flames  terrify, 
but  in  their  ashes  is  the  only  immortality  that 
can  satisfy  the  soul.  It  is  he  that  loseth  his  life 
that  shall  find  it.  Like  the  swan,  in  the  hour  of 
death  we  find  our  song.  In  the  life  laid  down 
we  come  upon  our  great  reward.  There  is  no 
reward  sweeter  than  that  which  comes  from  un- 
selfish service.  It  is  not  what  we  do  for  our- 
selves, but  what  we  do  for  others  that  makes  us 
happy. 

It  is  just  the  old  story  of  the  way  the  birds 


206  TENDENCY 

got  their  wings.  At  first  God  gave  the  birds 
their  wings  as  burdens,  and  bade  them  carry  the 
burdens.  They  obeyed,  and  laid  their  burdens 
on  their  shoulders  and  wrapped  them  about 
their  hearts,  when  lo  !  their  burdens  became 
their  wings,  and  carried  them.  So  it  is  with 
every  life  that  in  unselfish  service  takes  up  the 
tasks  and  duties  God  appoints.  As  we  carry 
them  on  our  shoulders  and  wrap  them  about  our 
hearts,  instead  of  weighing  us  down  they  carry 
us.  Our  burdens  become  our  pinions,  our  duties 
become  our  privileges,  our  service  our  reward, 
our  sacrifice  our  song.  Glory  is  a  flame  lit  in 
the  altar  fires  of  service.  Heaven  is  the  home- 
land of  all  who  travel  a  thorn-path  of  duty  to 
the  cross-crowned  hill  where  life  is  laid  down  for 
sake  of  others. 

Thus  life  is  ever  just  the  story  of  the  altar  and 
the  choir,  of  the  sacrifice  and  song. 

It  is  the  story  which  Jesus,  in  far  more  beauti- 
ful fashion,  has  told  in  the  Beatitudes.  What  is 
Christ  doing  there  but  surrounding  sacrifice  with 
song  ;  covering  the  slopes  which  rise,  out  of 
valleys  of  trial  and  sorrow  and  humiliation  up  to 
the  sky-lined  summits  of  the  delectable  moun- 
tains, with  the  invisible  choir  ?  He  takes  the 
hard  things  of  life  and  glorifies  them.  He  hangs 
the  horns  of  the  altar  with  garlands  of  beautiful 
flowers.  He  makes  the  things  which  hurt  us 
bless  us,  until  in  every  throb  of  human  pain  we 
hear  an  angel  singing, 

''Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  ;  for  they  shall 


THE  ALTAR  AND  THE  CHOIR      207 

be  comforted."  It  is  the  old  union  of  altar  and 
choir.  "  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn" — that  is 
the  altar, — "  for  they  shall  be  comforted  " — that 
is  the  choir.  "Blessed  are  the  meek  " — that  is 
the  sacrifice — "  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth  " — 
that  is  the  song.  ''  Blessed  are  ye  when  jncn  shall 
revile  you,  and  persecute  you,  and  shall  say  all 
manner  of  evil  against  you  falsely  for  My  sako  " 
— that  is  the  altar.  "Rejoice  and  be  exceeding 
glad  ;  for  great  is  your  reward  in  heaven  ;  for  so 
persecuted  they  the  prophets  which  were  before 
you" — that  is  the  celestial  choir. 

The  symbol  of  the  Gospel  is  a  cross ;  but  not  a 
cross  by  itself;  not  a  lone,  bare,  gaunt,  naked 
cross.  The  symbol  of  the  Gospel  is  a  crown  ; 
but  not  a  crown  by  itself ;  not  a  proud,  cold, 
despotic,  selfish,  pitiless  crown.  The  symbol  of 
the  Gospel  is  a  cross  and  a  crown  ;  a  cross  lying 
in  a  crown  ;  a  crown  growing  around  a  cross ; 
a  cross  haloed  by  a  crown ;  a  crown  won  by  a 
cross. 

It  is  the  old  story  of  sacrifice  soaking  in  an 
atmosphere  of  praise. 

It  is  the  ancient  legend  of  the  altar  and  the 
choir.  The  two  must  be  left  together  in  the 
temple  of  life,  for  we  cannot  have  one  without 
the  other.  We  cannot  have  happiness  without 
worship ;  nor  peace  without  atonement ;  nor 
sainthood  without  suffering ;  nor  achievement 
without  struggle ;  nor  reward  without  service. 
We  cannot  have  the  song  without  the  sacrifice  ; 
the  crown  without  the  cross. 


XVII 
THE  HEIGHTS  OF  LIFE 

"So  high  as  a  tree  aspires  to  grow,  so  high  will  it  find  an 
atmosphere  suited  to  it," — Thoreau. 

"  We  do  not  count  a  man's  years  until  he  has  nothing 
else  to  count," — Emerson. 

"  As  you  grow  ready  for  it,  somewhere  or  other  you  will 
find  what  is  needful  for  you,  in  a  book,  or  a  friend,  or,  best 
of  all,  in  your  own  thoughts,  the  eternal  thought  speaking 
in  your  thought." — George  Macdonald. 

"Great  men  seem  to  be  a  part  of  the  infinite,  brothers  of 
the  mountains  and  the  seas." — Ingersoll. 

Man  is  going  somewhere.  Whither  ?  The 
ancient  creeds  recited  as  the  goal  a  mechanical 
paradise  or  gehenna,  according  as  man  was  good 
or  bad  ;  but  these  terminals  hardly  satisfy  one 
who  has  an  insight  into  the  meaning  of  life. 

Man  is  in  a  process  of  development.  Where 
is  this  development  to  take  him  1  He  is  becom- 
ing ;  what  is  he  to  become  ?  He  is  ever  strug- 
gling to  translate  his  aspirations  into  attain- 
ments. When  he  has  reached  the  summit  of  his 
attainments,  where  will  he  be  ? 

Off  there,  somewhere  on  the  sky-line  lie  the 
heights  of  life.  How  shall  we  name  them  and 
with  what  terms  shall  we  describe  their  glories  % 

In  a  passage  of  unusual  sublimity,  the  Apostle 
of  the  spiritual,  the  Evangelist  whose  symbol  is 
208 


THE  HEIGHTS  OF  LIFE  209 

the  soaring  eagle,  exclaims:  "Behold,  what 
mauuer  of  love  the  Father  hath  bestowed  upou 
us  that  we  should  be  called  the  children  of 
God.     .     .     . 

"Beloved,  uow  are  we  the  children  of  God, 
and  it  is  not  yet  made  manifest  what  we  shall 
be.  We  know  that,  if  He  shall  be  manifested, 
we  shall  be  like  Him  ;  for  we  shall  see  Him  even 
as  He  is."  ' 

It  is  an  inspired  picture  of  the  heights. 

In  the  mail  one  day  came  a  letter  from  my  old 
home  in  Tennessee  telling  me  of  the  adoption  of 
a  foundling  baby  by  some  young  friends  of  mine. 
One  morning  a  baby  was  found  on  a  strange 
door-step,  a  little  bundle  of  humanity  repudiated 
by  its  own  parents  and  thrown  out  on  the  cold 
charity  of  the  world.  The  infant  was  taken  to 
the  Police  Station  and  the  morning  papers  told 
the  story  of  the  babe's  desertion  and  discovery. 

Two  days  before,  a  young  husband  and  wife 
had  stood  beside  a  little  grave  in  the  cemetery  on 
the  hill  and,  with  the  anguish  of  their  first  great 
sorrow,  had  buried  from  their  sight  the  dimpled 
face  of  their  first  babe ;  and  then,  broken- 
hearted, had  gone  back  to  an  empty  home 
shrouded  in  the  shadow  cast  by  a  child's  grave. 

They  were  Christians.  Their  circumstances  in 
life  were  all  that  could  be  desired,  and  they 
seemed  well  fitted  in  every  way  to  be  trusted 
with  a  child  ;  but  that  strange  Providence,  which 
baffles  while  it  smites,  had  taken  from  them 
'  1  John  iii.  1,  2. 


210  TEKDENCY 

their  only  child  and  left  them  desolate.  When 
they  read  the  story  of  the  foundling  babe  they 
seemed  to  hear  the  voice  of  their  own  child  cry- 
ing from  the  little  grave  on  the  hillside  and 
hastening  to  the  station,  they  adopted  the  name- 
less waif  and  took  the  tiny  stranger,  forsaken  of 
its  natural  protectors,  to  their  hearts  and  home. 
It  will  grow  up  as  their  child,  it  will  bear  their 
name,  and  inherit  whatever  they  may  have  to 
bestow. 

They  would  seem  to  be  running  a  great  risk. 
They  know  nothing  of  the  child's  origin.  They 
are  in  total  ignorance  of  what  it  may  inherit 
from  parents  who  were  either  ashamed  or  unable 
to  care  for  it.  The  child  may  grow  up  to  be  un- 
grateful. It  may  shame  its  benefactors,  break 
their  hearts  with  its  waywardness  and  dishonour 
the  name  that  has  given  it  a  home.  But  the 
love  which  adopted  the  child  did  not  pause  to 
consider  all  this.  That  young  couple  thought 
only  of  the  homeless  and  unmothered  babe,  and 
with  the  vision  of  the  angel  face  of  their  own 
precious  baby  before  them,  they  opened  their 
arms  and  said  :  ''  Let  us  have  the  child  ;  we 
would  adopt  it,  we  will  be  good  to  it  and  treat  it 
as  if  it  were  our  own." 

This  is  the  picture  John  would  paint  on  a 
heavenly  canvas.  This  is  the  story  he  is  trying 
to  tell  of  the  love  of  God.  He  is  saying  that 
God  is  adopting  foundlings.  He  is  taking  the 
waifs  of  the  world  to  his  heart  and  home.  He  is 
not  stopping  to  ask  of  the  past.     He  is  requiring 


THE  HEIGHTS  OF  LIFE  211 

no  guarantee  as  to  the  future.  He  opens  his  arms 
to  receive  them.  He  thinks  of  the  thorn- 
crowned,  death-marked  face  of  His  first  begotten 
and  best  beloved  Son  and  says  :  "Let  Me  have 
these  orphaned  and  forsaken  souls  of  the  world, 
homeless  and  hopeless  ;  I  will  be  good  to  them,  I 
will  give  them  My  name  and  treat  them  as  My 
own. "  "  Behold  what  manner  of  love  the  Father 
has  bestowed  upon  us,  that  we  should  be  called 
the  children  of  God  ! ' ' 

He  then  goes  on  to  say  what  this  love  does  for 
foundlings.  He  describes  the  career  of  those 
whom  the  love  of  God  has  rescued.  We  may 
call  it  "the  story  of  the  heights."  They  are  the 
heights  to  which  God  lifts  those  whom  He  calls 
His  children.  There  are  three  successive  alti- 
tudes mentioned. 

SoNSHip  AND  Adoption 
We  may  call  the  first  altitude  "  the  heights  of 
sonship  and  adoption."     "  Beloved,  now  are  we 
the  children  of  God." 

God's  love  has  just  called  us  children  ;  it  now 
makes  us  children.  It  makes  us  what  it  calls  us. 
This  is  the  mystery  of  redemption.  We  are  be- 
gotten as  well  as  adopted.  We  are  given  the 
divine  nature  as  well  as  the  divine  name,  and 
experience  what  Christ  meant  when  He  said  to 
Nicodemus  :     "Ye  must  be  born  again." 

The  young  couple  who  adopted  the  foundling 
babe  will  learn  to  love  it.  They  will  not  trans- 
fer the  love  they  had  for  their  own  from  the 


212  TENDENCY 

child  they  have  lost  to  the  one  they  have 
adopted,  but  a  new  love  will  come;  and  the 
child  will  learn  to  love  them,  but  it  can  never 
really  be  their  child.  Not  a  drop  of  their  blood 
runs  in  its  veins.  Years  hence,  some  one  who 
knows  the  story  of  that  fateful  night  may  rudely 
break  the  dream,  and  the  child  discover  that, 
after  all,  it  has  neither  father  nor  mother,  but  is 
just  a  foundling  nursed  and  cared  for  by  human 
compassion. 

Nothing  like  this  can  ever  happen  to  God's 
child.  Our  divine  Father  adopts  us,  but  that  is 
not  all.  He  first  calls  us  His  children,  then  He 
makes  us  what  He  calls  us.  He  imparts  to  us 
His  nature.  His  blood  runs  in  our  veins,  His 
life  throbs  in  our  souls,  until  in  the  face  of  all 
the  past  and  before  all  who  would  challenge  our 
rights  He  permits  us  to  exclaim  :  ' '  Now  are  we 
the  children  of  God." 

If  this  were  all,  it  would  be  enough  to  crown 
us  with  joy.  It  would  suflBce  to  ravish  the  soul 
with  rapture.  The  gospel  of  sonship  and  adop- 
tion is  a  great  gospel. 

It  comes  to  the  waifs  and  wanderers  of  the 
earth,  to  the  homeless  and  friendless  and  for- 
saken and  says :  '  *  Let  not  your  hearts  be 
troubled.  You  are  God's  children.  In  your 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions  and  your 
Saviour  has  gone  to  prepare  a  place  for  you." 

It  comes  to  the  poor  of  the  world,  to  those 
whose  homes  are  bare,  where  the  children  cry 
for  bread,  and  want  casts  its  awful  terror,  and 


THE  HEIGHTS  OF  LIFE  213 

says:  ''Do  not  despair.  You  are  God's  cliil- 
dren.  Hope  oii.  You  are  heirs  to  an  inherit- 
ance incorruptible  and  uudefiled,  and  that  fadeth 
not  away." 

It  comes  to  those  who  are  smitten  with  sorrow, 
afflicted,  tear-dimmed  and  desolate  and  says : 
"Be  of  good  courage.  God  is  your  Father. 
He  will  not  leave  you  comfortless.  Let  your 
Father  wipe  the  tears  from  your  eyes  and  tell 
you  of  a  tearless,  uightless  land." 

It  comes  to  those  who  are  weary  in  body  and 
more  weary  in  spirit,  care-cursed  and  sore  per- 
plexed, and  says:  "Hope  on.  God  is  your 
Father.  Listen  !  He  is  sayiug,  '  Come  unto  Me 
all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy  laden  and  I  will 
give  you  rest.'  Your  heavenly  Father  will 
strengthen  you  with  the  right  hand  of  His 
righteousness." 

It  is  a  great,  a  blessed  thing  just  to  be 
God's  child.  Let  a  man  claim  his  birthright. 
Some  time  ago  a  woman  died  in  an  institution  on 
Blackwell's  Island,  who  was  found,  afterwards,  to 
have  been  a  descendant  of  an  English  earl.  Her 
birthright  entitled  her  to  a  high  position,  but 
she  had  led  a  dissipated  life  and  died  a  pauper's 
death.  With  a  name  and  a  nature  which  unite 
us  to  God,  shall  we  live  like  homeless  waifs  and 
die  like  paupers  ? 

When  low  thoughts  and  base  desires  come,  let 
me  think  of  my  Father  and  say  :  "  No,  I  cannot 
do  this,  I  am  God's  child." 

When  doubts  and  suspicions  arise,  let  me  stifle 


214  TENDENCY 

them  with  the  thought  of  my  Father.  I  must 
uot  be  disloyal  to  Him. 

When  temptations  sneak  in  and  Satan  would 
drag  me  down,  let  me  resist  and  say  :  "I  am 
God's  child,  I  cannot  live  a  common  life  nor  do 
a  mean  thing." 

"Beloved,  now  are  we  the  children  of  God." 
This  is  the  song  it  sings.  It  is  the  song  of  son- 
ship  and  adoption.  Here  am  I  in  a  world  of 
struggle  and  conflict,  of  sorrow  and  disappoint- 
ment, of  want  and  woe  and  discouragement, — 
just  a  waif  on  a  strange  door-step  in  a  winter 
world,  but  God  has  adopted  me.  He  is  my 
Father  and  I  am  His  child. 

Development  and  Growth 
Sonship  and  adoption  are  only  the  first  stage  in 
the  heights  of  life.  The  ascent  continues.  We 
may  call  the  second  "the  heights  of  develop- 
ment and  growth."  "It  doth  not  yet  appear 
what  we  shall  be." 

I  have  stood  on  a  projecting  spur  of  a  moun- 
tain range  and  looked  backward  on  the  road  I 
have  climbed  and  then  far  down  into  the  valley 
below  where  I  could  see  the  farm-fields  and  the 
river.  As  I  have  rested  there  for  a  moment,  I 
have  felt  something  of  the  joy  which  comes  with 
the  heights;  but  as  I  have  turned  to  continue  the 
climb,  I  have  found  the  way  blocked  with  blind- 
ing mists  and  the  higher  ranges  wrapped  about 
with  the  dense  folds  of  cloud  and  completely 
shut  from  view.     I  knew  the  heights  were  there 


THE  HEIGHTS  OF  LIFE  215 

before  me,  but  I  could  not  see  them.  They  did 
not  appear.  And  so  I  had  to  plunge  into  the 
thickening  mist  and  continue  the  ascent  without 
scenery. 

It  is  thus  that  John  paints  the  second  stage. 
The  road  winds  through  the  mist.  "  It  doth  not 
yet  appear  what  we  shall  be,"  but  the  way  is  still 
upward  and  onward.  We  have  not  reached  the 
summit,  with  adoption.  Sonship  is  followed  by 
development  and  growth.  Here  is  the  marvel- 
lous thing  about  the  soul.  It  seems  possessed  of 
an  infinite  capacity.     Man  is  ever  becoming. 

Where  is  the  man  who  does  not  feel  the 
struggle  to  become  going  on  in  his  nature,  the 
fearful  conflict  between  the  baser  and  the  better 
self?  He  feels,  within  him,  forces  that  would 
drag  him  down  and  he  hears  voices  that  would 
summon  him  to  the  heights.  Like  Paul,  he  sees 
the  law  in  his  members  warring  against  the  law 
in  his  mind,  until,  with  Paul,  sometimes  the  cry 
starts  from  his  lips  :  ' '  Who  shall  deliver  me 
from  the  body  of  this  death  ?  " 

Where  is  the  man  who  does  not  feel  that  there 
is  more  in  him  than  he  has  expressed,  more  for 
him  than  he  has  ever  claimed,  a  better  message 
than  he  has  ever  uttered,  powers  of  being  and 
service  whose  leash  he  has  not  yet  broken  1 

These  unuttered  longings,  these  unrealized 
ideals,  these  undeveloped  capacities  and  unsatis- 
fied ambitions  and  tethered  powers  are  crying 
for  a  chance.  They  are  the  voice  of  the  man's 
own  soul  clamouring  for  the  heights. 


216  TENDENCY 

All  the  discipline  and  struggle  and  suffering  of 
Christian  life  reside  in  this  second  stretch  of  the 
road  which  we  call  development  and  growth.  The 
way  is  often  rough  and  steep,  sometimes  a  thorn 
path,  now  a  Gethsemane,  somewhere  a  Calvary. 
There  are  hard  passes  and  dizzy  cliffs  to 
scale.  It  is  all  for  the  sake  of  growth.  It 
is  to  make  us  great,  to  enlarge  our  spiritual 
capacities. 

This  is  the  meaning  of  our  unanswered  prayers, 
our  unsatisfied  aspirations  and  unmet  longings. 
We  cry  out  for  higher  and  better  things  and  are 
crushed  because  they  are  denied  us.  We  believe 
that  somewhere  up  there  above  us  are  the 
realities  which  answer  to  our  dreams,  and  we 
would  that  God  would  hand  them  down  into  our 
open,  waiting,  trembling  hands.  But  He  with- 
holds that  we  may  still  ascend. 

All  this  bewilders  us.  We  cannot  understand 
our  sufferings  and  disappointments.  We  have 
no  solution  for  the  puzzle  of  existence.  We 
are  mystified.  Of  course  we  are.  We  are 
climbing  in  the  clouds.  We  are  in  the  zone  of 
mist.  We  must  walk  by  faith.  We  must  push 
on  without  scenery.  Sometimes  we  wonder  if  we 
have  not  lost  the  way.  Again  we  are  half 
tempted  to  give  up  and  turn  back.  But  as  we 
listen,  ever  and  again  we  can  hear  sounding 
through  the  mist  the  call  of  divine  love,  saying  : 
''Press  on!  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  you 
shall  be." 

Some   things   have    appeared.     Sonship    and 


THE  HEIGHTS  OF  LIFE  217 

adoption  have  appeared.  We  have  seen  God  re- 
deem a  prodigal.  We  have  seen  Him  lift  a 
wretched  reprobate  from  the  ditch  and  transform 
him  into  respectability.  We  have  seen  Him 
touch  a  criminal  with  the  glory  of  redeeming 
love  and  make  him  honest.  We  have  seen  His 
winsome  grace  tame  the  savage  brute  and  give 
new  hope  to  the  despairing.  We  have  seen  God 
save  a  poor  lost  sinner  from  his  sins.  Not  once 
or  twice,  but  repeatedly  have  we  seen  all  this. 
It  appears  all  around  us  and  we  are  disposed  to 
call  it  a  miracle.  So  it  is,  but  it  is  only  the 
start.  It  is  nothing  to  what  God  is  doing  yonder 
in  the  mist,  where  He  is  growing  a  soul  into  the 
greatness  and  glory  and  godlikeness  that  will  fit 
it  for  heaven.  But  ^Hhe  kingdom  cometh  not 
with  observation." 

We  can  trust  ourselves  with  God  in  that  zone 
of  mist.  He  will  not  lose  His  child,  nor  suflFer 
him  to  be  hurt.  He  is  working  His  own  most 
gracious  will  in  us  through  these  experiences 
which  we  cannot  understand.  ''What  I  do, 
thou  knowest  not  now  ;  but  thou  shalt  under- 
stand hereafter."  ^  When  suffering  smites  us, 
and  disappointment  shrouds  us  and  our  feet  slip 
and  our  souls  falter,  and  we  cry  out  with  pas- 
sionate longing  for  the  unattainable,  we  must  not 
give  up.  God  is  producing  the  statures  of  a  soul. 
"It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be." 
"For  our  light  aflliction,  which  is  for  the  mo- 
ment, worketh  for  us  more  and  more  exceedingly 
•  John  xiii.  7. 


218  TENDENCY 

an  eternal  weight  of  glory."  ^    Let  us  plod  on, 
singing  ever  under  our  breath  : 

"Then  welcome  each  rebufi, 
That  turns  earth's  smoothness  rough, 
Each  sting  that  bids  nor  sit  nor  stand  bnt  go  !  " 

Eevelation  and  Eesemblance 
The  third  and  last  stage  of  the  ascent  we  may 
call  '^  the  heights  of  revelation  and  resemblance." 
As  I  have  stood  on  the  spur  of  the  mountain 
slope,  with  the  open  valley  in  sight  below  and 
the  zone  of  mist  rising  above  and  concealing  from 
sight  the  higher  ranges,  I  have  seen  the  summit 
of  the  cloud  suddenly  torn  open  by  the  wind,  and 
the  mountain  peak  emerge,  bold  and  distinct, 
standing  in  a  sea  of  mist  and  lifting  its  serene 
face  against  heaven's  sky  of  blue.  This  is  the 
way  John  would  paint  the  last  stage  in  redemp- 
tion's heights.  "We  know  that,  when  He  shall 
appear,  we  shall  be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see 
Him  as  He  is."  The  top  of  the  cloud  has  been 
blown  off  and  we  behold  the  serene  summit  peak 
of  life  standing  out  against  the  dome  of  heaven's 
eternal  blue. 

We  do  not  know  all  that  is  ahead  of  us  here  in 
the  second  stage  of  the  journey,  for  God  leaves 
the  clouds  on  the  lower  heights.  We  do  not 
know  how  much  more  of  suffering  and  discipline, 
of  hardship  and  struggle,  of  sorrow  and  unsatis- 
fied longing  are  ahead.  Well  for  us  that  we  do 
not.  We  might  falter  and  turn  back.  But  we 
'  2  Cor.  iv.  17. 


THE  HEIGHTS  OF  LIFE  219 

do  know  what  is  at  the  top.  He  is  there, — o in- 
glorious Redeemer.  It  is  uo  empty  dream,  uo 
wild  vagary  of  fancy.  He  has  shown  Himself. 
Far  down  in  the  valley  of  life's  sin  and  humilia- 
tion, before  we  had  even  started  to  climb  re- 
demption's heights.  He  came  and  showed  Him- 
self. His  face  was  veiled  in  Hesh  to  be  sure,  but 
the  veil  could  not  conceal  Him.  He  said : 
' '  Look  at  Me  and  see  what  I  would  have  you  be- 
come. Behold  what  is  waiting  for  you  at  the  top. 
I  am  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  beginning  and  the  end, 
the  first  and  the  last,  the  start  and  the  summit." 

He  has  appeared  above  all  the  blinding  mist 
and  mystery  of  life.  He  will  appear  and  ' '  we 
know  that  when  He  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like 
Him  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is."  What  an 
hour  that  will  be,  when  at  last  the  mists  have 
rolled  away,  and  we  lift  our  souls  up  out  of  the 
clouds  of  perplexity,  and  gaze  towards  heaven's 
unsullied  blue ;  and  there,  serene  and  radiant, 
shining  with  the  light  of  God,  and  haloed  by  the 
love  which  has  guarded  our  way,  we  shall  see 
the  face,  these  long  years  we  have  loved  and 
worshipped  !  Never  sunrise  so  beautiful,  never 
morning  so  ineffable  and  complete  ! 

And  that  sight  is  for  thee,  soul  of  mine ;  for 
these  dull  eyes  which  have  ached  for  the  vision  ; 
for  this  troubled  spirit,  sick  of  the  sights  of  sin 
and  weary  with  hope  long  deferred.  At  last  the 
King's  face  shines  through  the  gloom,  and  I  see 
Him  and  am  satisfied. 

Best  of  all  I  shall  be  like  Him,  for  ''we  know 


220  TENDENCY 

that  when  He  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like 
Him."  This  is  the  result  of  all  that  God  has 
been  doing  for  us  and  to  us  and  with  us  and 
through  us  down  there  in  the  zone  of  mist.  We 
were  perplexed.  We  could  not  understand,  but 
at  last  all  is  plain. 

We  shall  be  like  Him  in  looks,  in  thought,  in 
spirit,  in  character,  in  privilege,  in  power,  in 
destiny.  This  will  be  heaven.  Let  us  burn  up 
our  awkward  programs  of  the  heavenly  life,  and 
break  our  little  slates  and  paint  over  our  pictures. 
They  are  all  inadequate.  Here  is  what  is  coming. 
We  shall  be  like  Him,  who  is  the  chiefest  among 
ten  thousand  and  the  one  altogether  lovely.  We 
are  to  take  on  the  features  and  lineaments  supernal 
of  the  King  of  love  j  and  all  this  is  for  this  poor, 
homely  soul  of  mine  ! 

The  proof  of  it  is  that,  "  I  shall  see  Him  as  He 
is."  At  last  my  soul  shall  get  its  sight,  its  eter- 
nal perceptions,  its  infinite  capacity  for  seeing 
God.  I  shall  see  Him,  not  as  they  saw  Him  in 
Pilate's  judgment-hall,  spit  upon  and  mocked  by 
His  enemies  ;  not  as  they  saw  Him  staggering 
through  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  under  the  burden 
of  a  cross  with  the  coarse  crowd  shouting  ' '  Crucify 
Him"  ;  not  as  they  saw  Him  hanging,  broken 
and  bleeding,  on  lonely  Calvary  ;  not  as  they  saw 
Him  in  the  tomb  with  the  awful  pallor  of  death 
in  His  face  ;  but  at  last  I  shall  see  Him  as  He  is, 
robed  in  glory,  with  all  disguises  torn  off,  with 
the  mask  thrown  away,  in  all  the  splendour  and 
majesty  of  godhood. 


THE  HEIGHTS  OF  LIFE  221 

Such  are  the  lieights  ;  heights  of  sonship  and 
adoptiou,  heights  of  development  and  growth, 
heights  of  revelation  and  resemblance  !  Is  it  any 
wonder  that  John  adds  :  "  He  that  hath  this  hope 
in  him  purifieth  himself"  ? 

It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  a  Christian  ;  to  have 
Jesus  give  a  poor,  lame,  lost,  orphaned  soul  a 
start ;  to  hear  His  call  and  to  follow  up  the 
heights  of  sonship  and  adoption  ;  higher  still 
through  the  blinding,  baffling  mists  of  develop- 
ment and  growth  ;  at  last  to  the  everlasting  sum- 
mit peak  of  revelation  and  resemblance.  The 
call  is  always  like  this.  It  is  a  summons  to  leave 
the  swamps  for  the  heights. 

Yet  I  wonder  if  even  this  is  all.  When  at  last 
we  stand  on  that  loftiest  peak  of  revelation  and 
resemblance,  where  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is 
and  be  like  Him,  I  wonder  if  we  shall  not  find 
heights  towering  higher  still,  and  see,  sweeping 
far  out  into  eternity,  loftier  and  even  more  ma- 
jestic ranges  of  divine  purpose  to  which  God's 
love  would  summon  us,  and  towards  which  the 
life  within  would  compel  us. 

"  I  have  climbed  to  the  snows  of  Age,  and  I  gaze  on  a  field 
in  the  past, 
Where  I  sank  with  the  body  at  times,  in  the  sloughs  of 
a  low  desire  ; 
But  I  hear  no  yelp  of  the  beast,  and  the  man  is  quiet  at 
last 
As  he  stands  on  the  heights  of  his  life,  with  a  glimpse 
of  a  height  that  is  higher."  • 

'  Tennyson. 


222  TENDENCY 

But  the  climb  to  the  "height  that  is  higher" 
on  those  far,  dim  slopes  of  the  infinite,  will  be 
different,  for  the  days  of  struggle  and  suffering 
and  perplexity  will  all  be  over  and  the  country 
will  be  home* 


xvin 

THE  CROWN  OF  LIFE  ON  THE  BROW 
OF  DEATH 

"God's  finger  touched  him  and  heslept." — Tennyson. 

^'  Ready  to  die,  this  5th  June,  1568.  Your  Majesty's  very 
humble  and  loyal  vassal  and  servant." — Lamoral  d'Eymont. 

"O  Emperor,  they  that  are  about  to  die,  salute  thee." — 
The  Roman  Gladiators  in  the  arena. 

Death  does  not  stop  development.  It  does 
not  even  arrest  it.  Death  is  but  an  incident  of 
life,  a  stage  in  the  process  of  growth.  It  is  as 
necessary  as  birth  to  the  soul's  full  attainment 
of  its  possibilities.  Yet  the  fear  of  death  is  not  a 
groundless  fear.  It  is  the  verdict  of  the  race 
that  death  may  be  a  disaster,  that  it  maj'^  bring 
condemnation. 

If  death  is  to  be  itself  a  climb  higher  along  the 
altar  stairs  which  ' '  slope  through  darkness  up  to 
God  "  it  must  come  as  a  normal  experience  in 
the  life-program  of  one  who  has  tried  to  be  faith- 
ful to  each  duty  at  its  time  and  to  each  privilege 
as  it  offered. 

To  seek  death  as  an  escape  from  duty,  as  an 
avoidance  of  trouble  ;  to  shun  it  in  order  to  keep 
out  of  battle,  is  to  find  death  worse  than  a  fear. 

Let  a  man  live  his  life  honestly,  bear  his  load 
patiently,  face  his  foes  courageously,  take  his 
223 


f\' 


224  TENDENCY 

losses  without  grudging,  endure  his  sorrows  with- 
out bitterness ;  and  when  at  last  he  nears  the 
portal  of  death,  he  shall  find  it  a  gateway  flooded 
with  light,  the  entrance  to  a  realm  where  hope 
has  its  fruitions  and  all  good  dreams  come  true. 

The  heroic  figure  in  life's  great  play  is  he  who 
I  is  faithful. 

It  fell  to  my  lot  one  fall  to  spend  two  days  in 
Mercersburg,  Pa.  I  had  gone  there  to  preach  to 
the  four  or  five  hundred  young  men  in  the  Mer- 
cersburg Academy.  At  the  invitation  of  the 
headmaster,  Dr.  Irvine,  I  arrived  Saturday 
morning  in  time  to  witness  the  Field  Day  exer- 
cises of  a  school  whose  exploits  in  athletics  had 
made  it  famous  all  over  the  country.  I  was  well 
repaid.  The  thing  which  provoked  my  profound- 
est  admiration  was  an  incident  in  the  two-mile 
race.  The  track  is  a  quarter  of  a  mile  around, 
j  so  that  the  runners  had  to  cover  it  eight  times  to 
make  the  two  miles.  Some  twenty  young  fellows 
entered  the  contest,  and  the  race  was  run  in  good 
form ;  but  the  lad  who  got  my  heartiest  applause 
was  not  the  one  who  won  the  prize.  Indeed,  he 
was  the  one  who  came  out  last.  When  the 
winner  scored  the  goal,  this  lad  of  whom  I  speak 
was  some  three-eighths  of  a  mile  behind.  As  he 
came  around  the  seventh  time,  the  trainer  in- 
sisted that  he  come  off,  but  he  declined.  With 
no  chance  to  win,  he  persisted  in  running  the 
race  to  the  end.  He  had  entered  for  two  miles 
and  he  was  determined  to  run  two  miles.  As  he 
started  on  the  last  lap,  the  bleachers  broke  into 


THE  CEOWN  OF  LIFE  225 

applause.     I  thought  of  the  line  from  the  Apoca-     » 
lypse  which  says  :  "Be  thou  faithful  uuto  death,  ^j 
and  I  will  give  thee  the  crown  of  life;"  '  and  I 
said  to  myself :  "The  lad  has  lost  the  prize,  but    \ 
he  has  won  the  race.     If  he  will  put  that  spirit 
into  life,  nothing  can  keep  him  down.     If  in  the 
great  race  of  life  he  will  stick  to  duty  and  drive 
on  with  the  same  unswerving  fidelity,  to  the  last     I 
lap  of  the  road  and  to  the  final  tick  of  the  clock, 
the  great  Judge  of  awards  will  give  him  the     ' 
crown." 

Paint  this  schoolboy  incident  on  the  larger  M 
canvas  of  life  and  you  have  the  real  hero  of  the  ' 
world. 

A  man  has  run  the  long  race.     He  has  lagged 
behind  his  fellows,  but  he  has  done  his  best  and 
kept   on.     He   has  persisted  through  countless 
difficulties.     The   road  has  been  rough  and  the 
race  hard  ;  sometimes  up  dizzy  steeps  and  again  I 
through  weary  bogs    and  over  hot,    blistering  H 
sands  and  sharp  rocks ;  but  he  has  kept  on,   a  j 
stride  at  a  time,  with  his  face  towards  the  goal. 

He  has  little  applause,  for  he  is  a  mere  plod- 
der. Few  cheers  lift  at  his  tired  feet  and  no 
crowds  shout  his  name  with  wild  huzzas.  He  is 
running  a  tame  race,  and  again  and  again  some 
fleeter-footed  runner  leaves  him  behind,  but  he 
plods  on,  his  breath  coming  faster  and  harder  as 
he  nears  the  end. 

At  last  he  staggers  across  the  goal  line.     He 
has  put  himself  into  the  race  such  as  it  was.     He 
» Rev.  ii.  10. 


n 


226  TENDENCY 

has  been  faithful  unto  death,  and,  gasping  in  the 

throes  of  dissolution,  he  turns  his  face  towards 

the  Judge.     Then  a  strange  thing  happens,  for 

as  he  dies  he  lives,  as  he  fails  he  succeeds,  as  he 

falls  he  finds  the  Eock  of  Ages  beneath  his  feet  j 

^  and  out  of  the  infinite,  a  hand  is  stretched  forth 

I  to  garland  his  dying  brow  with  victory.     Death 

{has  not  defeated  him,    it  has  merely  given  the 

signal  for  his  coronation. 

God  places  the  crown  of  life  on  the  brow  of 
death  ;  and  He  does  it,  not  because  He  pities 
death,  though  He  does ;  and  not  because  He  has 
power  to  bestow  life,  though  He  has;  but  be- 
cause the  death  is  the  death  of  one  who  was 
faithful  unto  death  and  who  can  therefore  be 
trusted  with  a  crown  in  the  realm  of  life. 

The  divine  command  is:  "Be  thou  faithful 
unto  death." 

This  sums  up  in  a  word  what  God  requires. 
He  does  not  ask  us  to  be  energetic  beyond  our 
strength,  or  generous  beyond  our  means,  or  wise 
beyond  the  brains  with  which  this  poor  head  is 
L  furnished ;  but,  whatever  our  strength  or  means 
I|  or  brains,   He  does  ask  us  to  be  faithful.     He 
•  does  not  ask  me  to  be  another,  but  just  my  own 
plain,  humdrum,   homely,   uninteresting,  unim- 
portant, unattractive  self,  but  myself  faithful.     I 
may  have  seen  some  one  I  should  love  to  be  like, 
some    one    more   clever  than   I,    serener,    more 
happily  circumstanced  in  life.     Oh,  to  change 
places,  incomes,  friends,   duties !     It  is  not  re- 
quired.    It  is  not  permitted.     Let  me  run  my 


THE  CEOWN  OF  LIFE  227 

race  and  run  it  to  the  end.     Then  there  will  be  *f 
but  one  question — Have  I  been  faithful  ? 

When  at  last  the  Master  announces  the  w inner 
in  the  race  of  life,  it  will  be  found  that  not  many 
wise,  not  many  noble,  not  many  mighty  have 
been  called,  but  the  Judge  will  say  :  "Come  ye 
blessed  of  My  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  pre- 
pared for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world."  i 
"  Thou  hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things,  I  will 
set  thee  over  many  things ;  enter  thou  into  the 
joy  of  thy  Lord."^  Heaven's  welcome  plaudit 
is  :     "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant." 

What  is  it  to  be  faithful  ? 

It  is  to  be  full  of  faith.  The  man  who  has  no 
faith  is  not  faith  full  but  faith  empty.  He  is  faith- 
less. It  is  trusting  God  down  to  the  end  of  the 
journey,  through  storm  and  sunshine,  through 
adversity  and  prosperity,  through  good  report 
and  evil  report,  saying,  even  with  the  last  breath, 
"  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  Him." 

It  is  fidelity.  It  is  being  trustworthy  as  well 
as  trustful.  It  is  trusting  God  until  men  can 
trust  me.  It  is  being  so  loyal  to  duty,  so  devoted 
to  truth,  so  steadfast  to  principle,  that  no  lure  of 
quick  success  can  tempt  me  to  be  faithless.  It 
means  that  I  should  rather  be  defeated  than  lie, 
that  I  should  rather  fail  in  business  than  succeed 
through  dishonesty,  that  I  should  rather  be 
broken  in  fortune  and  ruined  in  reputation  than 
compromise  my  honour. 

And  it  is  all  this,  not  for  a  day  or  a  year,  or  a 

1  Matt.  XXV.  34.  *Matt.  xxv.  21. 


228  TENDENCY 

I  decade,  but  for  life,  not  merely  when  it  pays  but 
I  /  when  it  costs,  not  only  when  it  is  applauded  but 
/,' when  it  is  hissed;   it  is   ''unto   death."     The 
trouble  with  so  many  is  that  we  are  spasmodically 
faithful.     ' '  Ye  did  run  well ;  who  did  hinder 
you?"     We  are  good  for  the  first  lap  but  we 
soon  fall  out  of  the  race.     We  lack  constancy, 
longevity,  persistency.     We  have  periodic  sprees 
/;  of  fidelity.     There  is  none  so  bad,  but  he  has  oc- 
casional intervals  of  revival,  when  his  soul  is 
stirred  with  the  desire  to  do  better.     Under  the 
influence  of  some  rousing  appeal  or  sublime  occa- 
sion he  becomes  warmed  and  diligent  for  a  season, 
\   but  he  soon  grows  cold  and  stiff  again. 

It  is  so  easy  to  compound  with  infidelity  for 
the  moment,  cherishing,  meanwhile,  the  determi- 
nation to  return  to  the  paths  of  virtue  once  infi- 
delity has  declared  a  dividend.  It  is  such  an 
easy  thing  to  let  down  the  bars  into  forbidden 
territory  this  once.  A  crisis  is  impending.  Suc- 
cess is  almost  within  our  grasp.  One  false  word 
will  win,  one  brief  resort  to  deception,  one  be- 
trayal of  a  friend.  Why  not?  After  we  have 
won  we  can  repent  and  be  good  again.  But  that 
one  act  of  infidelity  is  fatal.  A  railroad  train 
:  does  not  need  to  jump  the  rails  a  mile  to  be 
•*  wrecked  ;  a  single  hair's  breadth  will  do  the  busi- 
ness. A  man  does  not  need  to  be  guilty  of  a 
/  whole  dictionary  of  blasphemy  in  order  to  take 
God's  name  in  vain  ;  one  profane  oath  suffices. 
One  does  not  need  to  become  a  notorious  liber- 
tine to  violate  the  sanctity  of  the  marriage  vow  ; 


THE  CROWN  OF  LIFE  229 

one  act  of  impurity  is  enough  to  desecrate  that 
holy  of  holies. 

Faithfulness  uuto  death  is  God's  standard  for 
human  life.  On  this  He  bases  His  judgments. 
As  we  apply  this  standard,  our  views  on  many 
things  undergo  a  radical  change.  We  come  to 
see  that  the  thing  of  value  is  not  speed  but  en- 
durance. The  real  hero  is  not  he  who  makes  theM 
fastest  schedule  but  he  who  lasts  the  longest.  ( 1 
There  are  those  who  go  up  like  a  rocket  and 
come  down  like  a  stick.  It  is  the  power  to  hold 
on  that  wins.  Great  Britain's  most  famous  gen- 
eral once  said  that  the  difl'erence  between  the 
soldiers  of  his  country  and  those  of  another  was 
not  that  the  English  soldier  was  braver  than 
other  soldiers,  but  that  he  was  brave  five  minutes 
longer.     It  is  endurance  that  wins  the  crown. 

The  thing  of  value  is  not  achievement  but 
fidelity.  It  is  not  what  we  accomplish  but  the 
way  we  accomplish  it.  It  is  our  ideals,  our 
principles. 

It  is  not  success  that  God  looks  at,  but  the 
struggle.  Success  is  a  cheap  thing,  it  is  merely 
relative,  an  affair  of  the  calendar  and  census  ; 
but  struggle  is  an  affair  of  eternity,  it  is  a  spiritual 
asset.  It  is  not  appearance  but  character.  God 
does  not  judge  by  the  uniform,  the  clothes,  the 
station,  the  accidentals  of  life,  by  what  a  man 
has,  by  his  baggage ;  but  by  his  character,  by 
what  he  is. 

The  decisive  element  is  not  the  present  but  the 
future.     God  has  not  finished  at  sundown.     We 


r\ 


i] 


230  TENDENCY 

cannot  pass  a  sane  judgmeut  without  sufficient 
perspective.  John  Milton  was  the  man  who  gave 
to  the  English  language  its  one  great  epic  and  to 
the  literature  of  the  world  one  of  its  chief  treas- 
ures. While  John  Milton  lived,  he  was  poor, 
and  unsung.  We  must  take  all  the  ages  into  our 
calculation  to  get  the  right  answer.  The  trouble 
is  we  are  short-sighted.     We  must  be  patient. 

The  divine  promise  is  :    "I  will  give  thee  the 

crown  of  life."     It  is  what  eternity  offers  the 

faithful — a  crown  of  life  !     It  is  a  reward  that 

aijpeals  to  the  highest  and  best  in  our  natui'es. 

It  is  not  a  cheap  prize.     God  does  not  come  with 

a  toy,  and  try  to  bribe  us  with  an  appeal  to  the 

appetites.     He  does  not  say  :  ' '  Be  faithful  and  I 

I  will  give  you  a  crown  of  ease  or  a  crown  of  pros- 

[  perity  or  a  crown  of  distinction  or  a  crown  of 

*^  power  or  a  crown  of  exemption,  but  I  will  give 

you  the  crown  of  life  ! ' ' 

What  is  the  promise  worth  ?  What  does  it 
mean  to  be  crowned  with  life  by  the  hand  of  God 
yonder  in  the  vast  realm  of  the  infinite  *? 

It  is  a  big  world  that  we  dwell  in  and  we  are 
all  but  smothered  by  a  sense  of  our  insignifi- 
cance. The  mighty  stretches  of  even  the  natural 
world  appall  us.  Some  one  has  illustrated  the 
distances  of  this  vast  natural  world  which  lies 
about  us  in  this  way.  He  says :  ' '  Let  us  sup- 
pose a  mustard  seed  lying  on  the  ground,  and,  at 
the  distance  of  forty  yards,  an  apple.  The  two 
objects  represent  the  relative  sizes  of  the  earth 
and  the  sun.     But  suppose  this  little  solar  sys- 


THE  CROWN  OF  LIFE  231 

tern  of  the  apple  and  the  revolving  seeds  to  lie 
on  the  field  in  an  English  county,  the  nearest 
fixed  star,  calculated  on  the  same  scale,  would  be 
another  apple  lying  in  the  centre  of  Pennsylva- 
nia." It  takes  three  and  a  half  years  for  the 
light  from  Alpha  Ceutauri  to  reach  our  planet. 
Through  holes  in  the  Milky  Way  the  telescope 
looks  out  into  limitless  stretches  of  darkness 
where  no  doubt  there  are  solar  systems  so  far  re- 
moved that  their  light,  travelling  for  countless 
centuries,  has  not  yet  reached  us.  In  the  midst 
of  all  this  bewildering  vastness,  we  are  overcome 
with  the  sense  of  our  littleness  and  feel  like  cry- 
ing out  to  God  :  ''What  is  man  that  Thou  art 
mindful  of  him?" 

But,  if  it  be  possible,  the  spiritual  world  is 
vaster,  and  its  mazes  more  bewildering.  How 
are  our  tiny  souls  to  adventure  eternity!  How 
shall  we  ever  be  able  to  find  our  way  through 
the  endless  stretches  and  the  rush  of  worlds  ? 

God  says:  "I  will  crown  you  with  life." 
You  shall  not  wander  the  infinite  orphaned,  de- 
serted, forsaken,  frightened,  bewildered,  home- 
sick ;  but  crowned  by  the  King  of  kings  and 
wearing  the  diadem  of  life. 

Life  is  the  one  sufficient  equipment  for  all 
worlds.  If  there  be  life,  it  will  make  a  way  for 
itself.  Chiist  had  life  and  even  the  Cross  and 
the  Tomb  could  not  block  His  way.  Life  will 
make  a  way  for  itself  through  the  mazes  of  eter- 
nity. 

The  faithful  will  enter  the  infinite  wearing  the 


232  TENDENCY 

crown  of  life ;  not  hunted,  defeated,  driven  of 
circumstance,  badgered  by  want ;  but  crowned 
and  kingly,  clothed  with  authority  and  wielding 
dominion. 

This  crown  is  the  sign  of  the  soul's  kinship 
with  the  royalty  of  heaven.  It  is  God's  way  of 
saying  to  the  faithful  :  "  I  am  your  Father ;  " 
and  to  all  the  inhabitants  of  eternity :  "  This  is 
My  son." 

And  it  is  on  all  this  yon  plain  toiler,  plodding 
at  his  humble  task,  emerges,  when  at  last  the 
curtain  falls  upon  his  lowly  part  in  life's  drama. 
He  has  been  faithful — that  is  all — faithful  unto 
death,  and  now  God  places  on  his  brow  the 
crown  of  life. 

"Why  should  he  fear  death  1  It  is  his  hour  of 
coronation.  Why  should  he  draw  back  at  the 
grave  ?  Just  beyond  its  shadow  a  throne  seat  is 
waiting  for  him,  and  across  its  mystic  portal  the 
real  rulers  of  the  world  are  about  to  acclaim  him 
a  comrade. 

This  transfigures  the  drudgery  of  life  and 
makes  each  step  in  the  long,  hard  race  a  stride 
towards  a  throne.  We  need  not  worry  over  re- 
sults. Our  one  concern  is  to  be  faithful  to  the 
duty  in  hand.  As  we  are,  the  path  of  duty  is 
illuminated,  the  goal  emerges  out  of  uncertainty, 
and  our  future  becomes  ' '  a  city  which  hath 
foundations." 

With  the  promise  of  a  crown  of  life,  one  can 
afford  to  be  reckless  in  the  discharge  of  duty. 
What  if  his  duty  cost  him  his  life?    It  is  only 


THE  CROWN  OF  LIFE  233 

he  who  loses  his  life  that  finds  it.  As  he  steps 
into  the  shadow,  death  changes  into  life.  It  was 
this  promise  which  carried  Christ  to  Calvary  and 
His  Apostles  to  martyrdom  and  countless  heroes, 
through  all  ages,  to  the  block  and  stake. 

Yonder,  where  the  shutters  are  drawn  and  the 
people  talk  in  whispers  and  walk  softly,  an  im- 
mortal soul  is  passing  out  of  time  into  eternity. 
His  has  been  a  commonplace  life,  but  he  has 
been  faithful  and  now  he  has  reached  the  end  of 
the  journey.  The  sunset  has  come  and  the 
shadows  of  evening  are  thickening.  Between 
two  worlds  hangs  the  veil  which  separates  time 
and  eternity.  On  this  side  the  veil,  it  is  a  house 
of  sorrow.  Loved  ones  are  in  tears  and  speak  to 
each  other  in  broken  sobs  and  cry  out  to  God  for 
comfort. 

But  on  the  other  side  of  that  thin  veil,  the 
scene  is  far  different.  It  is  the  hour  of  a  great 
soul's  coronation.  There  are  no  tears,  no  sob- 
bing grief  and  heart-broken  prayers,  but  the 
chant  of  victory,  for  a  faithful  soul  is  coming  to 
its  own.  All  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of 
heaven  centre  there.  The  face  of  the  pilgrim 
has  lost  its  death  pallor  and  the  eyes  shine  with 
the  light  of  expectant  immortality.  God  is  once 
more  placing  the  crown  of  life  on  the  brow  of 
death,  and  all  heaven  resounds  with  cheers  for  a 
real  hero. 


XIX 
DESTINATION   AND   DEPARTURE 

"Into  the  Silent  Land  ! 
Ah  !  who  shall  lead  us  thither? 
Clouds  in  the  evening  sky  more  darkly  gather. 
And  shattered  wrecks  lie  thickly  on  the  strand. 
Who  leads  us  with  a  gentle  hand 
Thither,  oh,  thither, 
Into  the  Silent  Land?  " 

— Johann  G.  von  Salis. 

Heaven  is  the  name  the  Bible  gives  to  the 
destinatiou  of  a  human  being  who  has  become  a 
partaker  of  the  divine  nature. 

To  such  a  being  death  is  but  the  swinging 
open  of  the  gate  to  heaven. 

While  the  Bible  speaks  of  heaven,  it  speaks  of 
it  by  way  of  suggestion  rather  than  description, 
in  a  way  to  capture  the  imagination  rather  than 
to  satisfy  the  reason. 

In  one  of  the  most  confidential  moods  of  His 
ministry,  Jesus  said  to  His  friends:  "I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  you.  And  if  I  go  and  pre- 
pare a  place  for  you,  I  will  come  again  and  re- 
ceive you  unto  Myself ;  that  where  I  am,  there 
ye  may  be  also."  * 

He  was  speaking  of  heaven.  He  was  looking 
through  the  open  door  of  death  and  speaking  of 

'  John  xiv.  2,  3. 
234 


DESTINATION  AND  DEPARTURE    235 

heaven.  Staudiug  in  the  shadow  of  that  pres- 
ence which,  despite  our  faith,  still  makes  us  fear, 
Christ  dropped  these  blessed  words  of  comfort 
into  the  troubled  hearts  of  His  disciples  from 
whom  death  was  soon  to  divide  Him. 

Standing  on  the  threshold  of  death  He  pro- 
claimed and  promised  heaven. 

It  is  going  out  of  fashion  to  make  much  of 
heaven.  People  do  not  think  of  it  as  they  once 
did.  They  do  not  believe  about  it  as  they  used 
to.  It  is  a  common  thing  to  make  light  of  it. 
It  is  too  dreamy  and  far  away,  too  misty  and 
mythical  and  mystical  to  be  much  of  an  asset  in 
real  life.  The  hymns  of  heaven  are  retired,  and 
the  religion  of  heaven  is  discredited.  Our  age 
is  too  practical  and  our  creeds  too  scientific  and 
exact.  In  so  far  as  heaven  finds  a  place  in  our 
vocabulary,  we  are  disposed  to  make  it  a  present- 
day  condition.  We  locate  it  on  this  side  the 
grave.  Instead  of  our  going  to  heaven,  it  must 
come  to  us.  It  must  get  into  present  conditions 
and  habits.  It  is  regarded  as  a  social  millennium. 
It  is  repairing  the  damage  done  by  sin  on  earth. 
It  is  bringing  about  ideal  relations  in  real  life. 
It  is  getting  the  New  Jerusalem  located  on  this  \ 
planet. 

All  this  is  eminently  Christian.     Religion  is  a  jA 
sham,   unless  it  affect  present-day  and  present-   ^  \ 
world  conditions.     It  is  very  well  to  sing  of  "the 
sweet  by  and  by,"  but  faith  in  a  heaven  to  come 
is  a  lie,  unless  it  lead  one  to  strive  for  heavenly 
foretastes    and    foretokens   here.     If   the    hope 


236  TENDENCY 

of  heaven  affect  nothing  but  hymnology  and 
prayer,  if  it  lead  us  to  do  nothing  but  ' '  sit  and 
sing  ourselves  away  to  everlasting  bliss,"  if  it 
fail  to  stir  us  to  help  the  weak  and  nurse  the 
sick  and  champion  the  cause  of  the  oppressed, 
heaven  is  a  pious  fraud.  If  it  be  genuine,  it 
must  get  down  to  earth.  And  yet  we  make  a 
worse  blunder  if  we  conclude  that  heaven  is 
nothing  but  a  foretaste  ;  and  that  this  holy  city, 
i  which  comes  down  from  God  out  of  heaven, 
I  leaves  no  eternal  triumphant  city  of  God  in 
heaven. 

Man  cannot  give  up  his  faith  in  the  heaven 
Christ  talked  about  as  He  looked  through  the 
open  door  of  death.  He  cannot  surrender  his 
hope  of  the  homeland.  His  heart  pines  for  it 
and  the  thought  of  it  makes  every  step  in  the 
long  journey  easier. 

When  we  grow  weary  of  our  work,  and  worn 
\  out  by  conflict,  and  discouraged  by  failures,  it  is 
the  thought  of  heaven  that  makes  us  live  again. 
If  we  had  to  cancel  from  our  creed  the  glorious 
hope  of  ' '  the  rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people 
of  God,"  the  load  would  crush  us. 

When  we  stand  at  the  bedside  of  the  dying 
and  watch  the  strange  pallor  as  it  spreads  over 
the  face  we  love,  and  feel  the  final  pulse  as  it 
goes  to  sleep  in  the  tired  arteries,  that  which 
comforts  us  is  the  feeling  that  good-bye  is  but 
A  for  a  little  while.  We  shall  meet  beyond  the 
river.  Heaven  is  just  across  on  the  other  side  of 
the  silent  ford.     The  parting  will  not  be  long. 


^^ 


DESTINATION  AND  DEPAETURE    237 

When  our  departui'e  draws  uear,  and  but  a 
filmy  shadow  seems  to  intervene  between  time  and 
eternity,  the  thing  which  slays  the  fear  in  our 
hearts  and  gives  us  perfect  peace  is  the  faith 
that  we  are  going  home ;  we  are  nearing  our 
Father's  house. 

It  may  be  old-fashioned  to  think  this  way 
about  heaven,  but  living  is  an  old-fashioued 
business,  and  the  Bible  is  an  old-fashioned  book, 
and  Christianity  is  an  old-fashioned  religion, 
and  the  heart  has  old-fashioned  needs,  and 
heaven  is  an  old-fashioned  place,  and  the  sob  of 
the  stricken  soul  is  still  what  it  was  when  Christ 
hushed  human  sorrow  with  the  hope  of  heaven. 

The  land  of  immortality  comes  down  to  greet 
us  and  across  the  dim  border  which  separates 
two  worlds,  we  catch  glimpses  of  our  destina- 
tion. 

Heaven  is  a  place.  It  is  somewhere.  It  is  as 
much  a  real  world  as  earth.  It  is  along  some 
line  of  latitude  and  longitude.  It  has  a  tangible 
and  definite  existence.  It  is  a  place.  It  is  not  a 
vapour,  a  dim  idea,  a  holy  dream,  a  pious  aspira- 
tion, a  devout  fancy.  It  is  not  merely  a  state  of 
mind,  a  condition  of  character,  an  attitude  of 
conduct.  Heaven  is  a  place.  We  may  not  be 
able  to  define  it,  but  what  of  that  ?  There  is 
much  we  cannot  define.  If  our  world  were  re- 
duced to  the  geographical  boundaries  of  what  we 
are  able  accurately  to  defiue,  we  should  be 
cramped  for  standing  room.  We  may  not  be 
able  to  understand  heaven,   but  what  of  that  f 


238  TEI^DENCY 

What  do  we  understand?  We  do  not  under- 
stand ourselves.  But  while  we  may  not  be  able 
either  to  define  or  understand  it,  this  we  can  do  ; 
we  can  hope  it.  We  can  believe  in  heaven,  and 
trust  the  statement  of  Christ,  who  rose  from  the 
dead. 

Christ  is  somewhere.  In  His  spirit,  He  is 
everywhere ;  but  in  His  person  He  is  somewhere. 
The  Bible  says  He  is  at  the  right  hand  of  God. 
Wherever  Christ  is,  there  is  heaven.  The 
angels  are  somewhere.  They  are  not  ubiquitous. 
They  cannot  be  in  two  places  at  one  and  the 
same  time.  The  home  of  the  angels  is  the  heav- 
enly country.  The  redeemed  of  the  Lord  are 
somewhere.  They  are  not  wandering  like  lost 
spirits  through  the  void.  They  are  with  Christ, 
and  there  is  heaven. 

Christ's  resurrection  proves  the  reality  of 
heaven.  It  settles  all  that  is  unsettled  about  it. 
If  it  be  true  that  Christ  said  what  He  is  reported 
to  have  said,  if  it  be  true  that  He  died,  and  if  it 
be  true  that  He  arose  from  the  dead  as  the 
Scriptures  say,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the 
reality  of  heaven. 

If  Mary  saw  Him  after  He  arose  from  the 
dead,  if  the  two  women  saw  Him,  if  the  two  dis- 
ciples saw  Him  at  Emmaus,  if  any  of  the  eleven 
saw  Him  at  either  of  His  appearances  in  the  up- 
per room,  if  Thomas  saw  the  print  of  the  nails  in 
His  hands  and  the  spear- wound  in  His  blessed 
side,  if  Peter  and  the  other  disciples  saw  Him  in 
the  early  morning  by  the  seaside,   if  the  eleven 


DESTINATION  AND  DEPAKTURE    239 

saw  Him  on  the  inountain  top,  if  the  five  hun- 
dred saw  Him  at  one  time,  if  Paul  saw  Him  and 
heard  His  voice  that  fateful  day  on  the  way  to 
Damascus,  if  all  of  these  or  any  one  of  these  at 
any  single  time  saw  Jesus  after  He  rose  from  the 
dead,  if  Jesus  is  alive  to-day  in  any  of  His  dis- 
ciples, in  this  or  any  other  world ;  then  Jesus 
lives,  His  word  is  true,  and  heaven  is  not  a 
fiction.  It  is  not  a  dreamland,  but  as  real  a 
country  as  America  or  England.  Heaven  exists 
somewhere. 

This  little  planet  is  not  all.  This  dim  twi- 
light is  not  all.  Some  day  the  twilight  will  " 
fade  before  the  fadeless  glory  of  eternity, '  1 
and  this  narrow  planet  shall  be  exchanged 
for  the  place  Christ  is  preparing.  There  is  a 
laud  which  satisfies  our  longings,  where  "the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling  and  the  weary  are 
at  rest,"  where  all  our  hopes  are  realized  and  all 
we  seek  is  found. 

Heaven  is  a  place  prepared  by  Christ.     It  is 
something  beyond  our  own  creation.     We  have  a  rt( 
way  of  saying  that  every  man  makes  his  own    r 
heaven.     This  is  true  in  part,  but  it  is  a  very    ^ 
small  part.     If  the  part  man  makes  is  all,  heaven 
is  not  much.     If  my  heaven  is  to  be  nothing  but 
the  happiness  I  construct,  the  reward  I  earn,  the 
peace  I  achieve,  I  shall  be  a  pauper  forever.     We 
are  not  great  at  heaven  building.      We  have 
made  slow  progress  at  it  here  in  time.     For  some 
thousands  of  years  we  have  been  trying  to  bring 
some  of  our  heavenly  dreams  to  pass  in  human 


240  TENDENCY 


^ 


society,  but  how  slow  our  progress !  We  are 
poor  architects  of  happiness.  Only  Christ  can 
build  the  place  we  call  heaven.  He  has  promised 
to  do  it.  He  says,  "  I  go  to  do  it."  It  was  what 
He  said  as  He  looked  at  the  cross  and  peered  into 
the  shadows  of  the  tomb  and  stepped  down  into 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  It  was  just 
Christ's  way  of  saying  "I  go  to  prepare  a  place 
for  you."  It  was  what  He  meant  as  He  snapped 
the  bands  of  death  asunder  and  rolled  the  stone 
away  and  came  forth  in  the  radiant  beauty  and 
glory  of  His  resurrection.  It  was  still  Christ 
saying  with  the  voice  of  a  conqueror  :  "  I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  you."  It  was  what  He  meant 
as  He  rose  from  the  slopes  of  Olivet  on  clouds  of 
light  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High.  It  was 
the  ascending  Saviour  saying  in  notes  of  victory 
to  His  waiting,  wondering  disciples :  "  I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  you." 

He  has  gone  up,  leading  ''captivity  captive," 
with  a  full  knowledge  of  our  nature  and  needs 
and  of  all  that  is  necessary  to  make  us  happy,  to 
build  there  on  the  eternal  firmament  a  place  of 
habitation  for  His  people. 

Christ  is  preparing.  He  is  getting  things 
ready.  When  all  is  ready,  He  will  take  us 
home.  What  a  home-coming  it  will  be  !  Some- 
times a  man  dies  in  his  prime  and  we  wonder  at 
the  strange  Providence  which  cuts  off  a  splendid 
career  in  the  midst  of  usefulness.  Perhaps  if  we 
could  see  the  other  side,  a  part  of  the  mystery 
might  clear  in  a  vision  of  the  place  that  was 


DESTINATION  AND  DEPAKTURE    241 

ready  for  the  home-coming  of  the  King's  son. 
Sometimes  a  little  child  is  taken  all  too  soon  from 
the  arms  of  parental  love,  and  we  are  mystified 
by  a  plan  which  plucks  the  bud  before  the  flower  is 
blown  ;  but  we  may  rest  assured  the  place  Christ 
prepares  for  His  own  is  ready.  No  one  arrives  in 
heaven  to  find  there  is  no  room. 

Heaven  will  not  be  a  disappointment.  It  will 
satisfy.  Christ  knows  best  just  what  we  need, 
and  we  can  safely  leave  all  the  plans  audfuruisli- 
ings  of  our  eternal  home  to  Him,  assured  that  the 
heaven  He  builds  will  fill  every  measure  of  desire. 
It  will  be  complete. 

Of  one  thing  we  may  be  certain.  Heaven  will 
not  be  a  purgatory.  It  will  not  be  a  place  where 
people  are  to  be  disciplined  by  further  suffering, 
in  order  that  they  may  be  purged  of  remaining 
dross  and  made  fit  to  enter  God's  presence. 
Christ  says  nothing  about  a  purgatory.  The 
comfort  He  gives  to  a  dying  pillow  is  not  the 
prospect  of  purgatorial  torment.  It  is  heaven. 
"  That  where  I  am  ye  may  be  also,"  is  His  word. 
Christ  is  not  in  purgatory.  Having  offered  a 
perfect  sacrifice  for  sin.  He  has  entered  into  the 
holy  of  holies.  The  Christian  when  he  dies  goes 
where  Christ  is.  Absent  from  the  body  is  pres- 
ent with  the  Lord. 

The  Bible  gives  some  glimpses  of  heaven. 
There  will  be  no  sin  there.  Sins  are  catalogued, 
but  they  are  all  kept  outside  the  gates  of  the 
White  City.  Nothing  that  defileth  or  maketh  a 
lie  is  allowed  to  enter.     A  man  gets  rid  of  his 


242  TEIs^DENCY 

chain,  of  his  infirmity,  of  the  sin  which  doth  so 
easily  beset  him,  of  the  body  of  death  to  which 
he  lias  been  bound,  and  which  has  been  making 
existence  a  hell  on  earth.  He  stands  up  free  and 
emancipated  beyond  the  reach  of  temptation,  and 
out  of  the  peril  of  fall  forever.  That  will  be 
heaven. 

There  will  be  no  night  there,  no  more  darkness, 
no  blinding  mystery,  no  baffling  obscurity,  no 
weary  anxiety  and  perplexity.  "Heaven  will 
be  the  sweet  surprise  of  a  perfect  explanation." 
All  will  be  made  plain.  'Now  we  know  in  part, 
but  then  we  shall  know  as  we  are  known.  There 
will  be  no  more  sea,  no  more  exile,  no  more  lone- 
liness, no  more  enforced  idleness,  no  more  limita- 
tions, no  more  separations  and  hardships  and 
penalty.  There  will  be  no  more  sorrow,  no  more 
hurts,  no  more  bereavements,  no  more  disap- 
pointments. God  will  wipe  away  all  tears  from 
our  eyes.  Sorrow  and  suffering  will  so  dog  our 
steps  to  the  very  gates  of  glory  that  we  shall  enter 
heaven  with  the  traces  of  grief  upon  our  faces, 
but  God  will  stretch  forth  His  hand  and  wipe 
away  our  tears ;  and  there  will  be  no  more  tears 
forever. 

We  shall  be  with  Christ,  and  if  with  Christ, 
with  all  who  love  Him,  with  the  loved  ones  who 
have  reached  Him  before  us.  My  little  seven- 
year-old  boy  was  talking  to  me  one  day  about 
heaven,  and  said:  **But,  father,  you  will  be 
able  to  think  about  your  family  there,  won't 
you?"    Already  in  the  child's  heart  that  ques- 


DEST  [NATION  AND  DEPARTURE    243 

tion  was  asking  itself  which  is  ever  on  our  lips 
when  we  think  of  the  country  beyond  death. 

"  When  for  me  the  silent  oax 
Parts  the  silent  river 
And  I  stand  upon  the  shore 
Of  the  vast  forever, 
Shall  I  miss  the  loved  and  known? 
Shall  I  vainly  seek  mine  own?  " 

Blessed  be  God,  the  reply  is  an  answer  to  the 
heart's  prayer.  The  face  of  the  risen  Christ  is 
our  assurance  that  death  can  never  so  disfigure 
the  face  we  love  as  to  make  us  strangers. 
The  flowers  of  this  spring  time  lift  up  the  same 
fair  faces  we  knew  in  the  spring  days  that  are 
gone. 

"So  after  the  death  winter  it  will  be, 
God  will  not  put  strange  sights  in  heavenly  places. 
The  old  love  will  look  out  of  the  old  faces."  ^ 

Heaven  is  the  place  to  which  Christ  will  con- 
duct us.  He  does  not  leave  us  to  make  the  jour- 
ney through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  alone.  He 
comes  for  us.  He  is  our  holy  escort.  There  is 
no  danger  of  our  losing  the  way.  The  perils 
which  lurk  in  the  shadows  cannot  frighten  us. 
Christ  has  made  the  vale  of  death  safe  for  all  who 
enter  it,  trusting  in  Him.  He  walks  beside  us. 
"  I  come  again  and  will  receive  you."     It  is  the 

*  Chadwick. 


244  TENDENCY 

beautiful  way  Christ  has  of  transforming  the  dark 
hour.  He  has  described  how  He  comes.  It  is  on 
the  clouds  of  glory,  and  the  holy  angels  are  with 
Him.  What  a  celestial  procession  !  That  is 
what  takes  place  at  death.  We  see  only  the 
dark  side  of  the  cloud  ;  we  are  beneath  it.  But 
on  the  other,  the  heaven  side,  all  is  light  and 
glory.  Christ  and  the  holy  angels  have  come  to 
conduct  a  soul  to  the  place  Christ  has  prepared. 
Death  is  transfigured. 

He  will  receive  us  unto  Himself.  Sometimes 
we  think  of  what  a  blessed  thing  it  would  be 
to  have  been  with  Jesus  when  He  was  upon 
earth  ;  to  have  gone  with  Him  from  village  to 
village,  along  the  dusty  roads,  through  the 
crowded  city  streets  ;  to  have  spent  the  mornings 
and  evenings  in  Christ's  company  as  did  His  dis- 
ciples. True  those  were  the  days  of  His  humilia- 
tion. He  was  despised  and  persecuted,  and  had 
not  where  to  lay  His  head  ;  but  to  have  been 
allowed  to  share  even  that  with  Christ  would 
be  a  blessed  privilege.  Something  far  better 
awaits  us.  We  shall  be  with  Him  in  glory. 
Tired  soul,  this  is  what  He  says  :  ' '  That  where 
I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also ; "  on  the  clouds  of 
glory,  in  the  streets  of  gold,  on  the  jasper  throne. 
Sometimes  we  think  what  a  boon  it  would  be  if 
Christ  would  do  for  us  what  He  did  for  some  of 
the  people  when  He  was  on  earth  ;  if  He  would 
heal  our  sick,  if  He  would  fight  off  death  when 
our  beloved  seem  about  to  cross  the  river,  if  He 
would  let  us  keep  the  child  death  so  cruelly  takes 


DESTINATION  AND  DEPARTURE    245 

away  j  if  He  would  lengthen  out  the  years  of  our 
earthly  companionship.  We  beg  for  that,  but 
He  has  somethiug  far  better  to  give  us.  He  has 
the  homeland,  not  for  a  few  years  of  loving  asso- 
ciation but  forever. 

In  1865  Lord  Francis  Douglas,  while  climbing 
Mont  Blanc  slipped  and  fell  to  his  death.  His 
body  could  not  be  found,  and  it  was  supposed 
that  it  had  fallen  into  the  bed  of  the  glacier. 
According  to  computations  based  on  careful  esti- 
mates from  experience,  the  glacier  should  have 
discharged  the  body  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
in  the  summer  of  1905.  All  that  summer,  the 
aged  mother  of  Lord  Francis  was  there  watching 
and  waiting  for  the  body  of  her  boy,  but  the 
body,  to  her  bitter  disappointment,  did  not  ap- 
pear. Broken-hearted,  she  had  been  waiting  for 
years  just  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  scarred  face  and 
mangled  body  she  loved,  and  lay  its  dust  to  rest. 
She  would  have  been  comforted,  if  only  that  had 
been  allowed  her.  But  there  is  an  infinitely  bet- 
ter thing  Christ  has  prepared  ;  not  the  dull  dust 
and  broken  body  released  from  the  icy  embrace 
of  the  cruel  glacier,  but  the  living,  glorified  i>er- 
sonality  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father's  love ;  not 
for  one  hurried,  agonizing  glimpse  as  the  heart 
sobs  over  the  memory  of  what  it  has  lost ;  but 
forever  and  ever  in  the  fellowship  of  heaven. 

There  is  a  legend  of  a  lad  whose  little  sister 
was  desperately  ill  and  who  was  told  that  if  he  1 
could  get  one  leaf  from  the  tree  of  life  in  the 
garden  of  God,  it  would  heal  her.     He  travelled  I 


246  TENDENCY 

far  in  search  of  the  garden,  and  when  at  last  he 
had  found  it,  he  told  the  angel  at  the  gate  his 
story  and  begged  for  one  leaf  from  the  tree  of  life. 
The  angel  said  :  ^'If  your  sister  is  healed,  can 
you  promise  me  that  she  will  never  be  sick  again, 
never  again  hungry  or  tired,  that  people  will 
never  again  ill- treat  her?"  The  lad  said: 
"No,  I  cannot  promise."  ''Then,"  said  the 
angel,  '*I  will  open  the  gate  a  little  and  let  you 
look  in.  If  after  you  have  seen,  you  still  want 
the  leaf,  I  will  go  myself  to  the  God  of  the  garden 
and  beg  it."  The  lad  looked  in  and  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  glory  of  heaven.  He  saw  the 
beauty  and  blessedness  of  the  place,  and  as  he 
turned  away,  he  said  softly  to  the  angel:  "I 
will  not  ask  for  the  leaf  now.  There  is  no  coun- 
try so  beautiful  and  happy  as  this.  There  is  no 
one  so  kind  as  the  angel  of  death.  I  wish  he 
would  take  me  too." 

This  is  the  Christian's  hope.  Amid  the  fra- 
grance of  Easter  lilies  and  the  music  of  resurrec- 
tion hymns,  the  message  slips  in  like  sunshine 
through  an  open  window  ;  and  to  those  whose 
forms  are  scarred  with  the  wounds  of  battle,  who 
have  travelled  far  and  are  weary,  whose  spirits 
sigh  for  rest  and  whose  hearts  cry  for  home,  it 
says:  "This  is  your  destination,  the  spot  on 
which  all  the  stars  shine,  the  hour  when  every 
?longing  breaks  into  song."  And  yet  we  wonder 
/if  even  heaven  is  a  finished  country. 

Are  there  no  vistas  there?  If  life  is  tendency, 
heaven  will  not  make  its  pulses  dumb,  nor  lay  its 


DESTINATION  AND  DEPAKTUEB    247 

glorious  tides.  We  shall  find  that  destination  is 
but  a  new  point  of  departure  and  that  even  in 
the  full  blaze  of  what  we  now  call  heaven,  the 
soul  will  still  "  a  far-off  glory  see,  strange  music 
hear." 


DATE  DUE 

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G  A  Y  L  O  R  D 

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